Don't Speak
by mintaminta
Summary: Harry's finally lost it and managed to bring his school nemesis down with him. But when Harry & Draco are forced to embark on their altered lives together they both reveal the dark sides in them that have rarely been brought to light. Slash, STRONG M.
1. See It All Disappear Without A Trace

**Title: **Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N:** WARNING: You only get one of these, so here it is. THIS IS A STRONG MATURE RATING. If that isn't your cup of tea, please don't be alarmed when things get messy.

Thank you to all the reviewers of my stories, I live for reviews so please keep them coming! I do not own the titles of these chapters, they are from the song 'A Rush Of Blood to the Head' by Coldplay but THIS ISN'T A SONGFIC! I only use the lyrics for the names of the chapters but the content isn't following the song.

As well, each chapters starts with the ending (in _italics_). Don't worry, you'll get it quickly.

All right? Let's get started then…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 1 - …See It All Disappear Without A Trace… 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_Harry? Harry, say something, come on, don't do this to me. Say something Harry! What happened? What's wrong?"_

_Ron's soaking wet, but I can't quite place why. I'm wet too, and cold. I'm shivering, and I can't stop. I'm crying and I don't know when that happened either. There's water everywhere, red water on the white tile floor. I want him to explain this to me, tell me what's wrong, but he doesn't have the answers to my questions. I can't ask them, and he can't explain._

_I wish that this would_

_All_

_Just_

_Stop._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I woke up this morning, the same as every other morning this year. I got up before the rest of the 6th year Gryffindor boys, and took a shower as to avoid them. I can't stand them chattering in the morning, groaning over sunlight and not having finished last nights homework. It irks me that they manage to complain over such small and insignificant things.

After my shower I dress quietly as the rest of the tower is awakening, tying my shoes as the first yawns of the morning can be heard. I shake Ron awake but leave before he's coherent enough to speak, to try and start a conversation.

As I walk towards the breakfast hall, I wonder about how he's doing. How he feels, what he's up to. It's not that I can't stand being around him, it's just that he brings everything back into harsh reality when all I want to do is ignore it.

A couple of teachers are milling into the Great Hall as I do, Dumbledore already seated and tucking into a steaming bowl of porridge at the head table. It disgusts me. I sit alone at my table and manage to eat half an apple and a glass of orange juice. After that, any other food is repulsive. The heaping piles of it on the table nauseate me, so I leave the Hall as quickly as I came, walking past Draco and his gang as they enter the Hall.

He makes some smart remark about how I look lately, but I mostly ignore it. I wish him to be quiet constantly, to just go off and die in some hole so as to that I don't have to deal with him daily. My wishes aren't granted.

I sit under a tree by the lake, enjoying the quiet of the grounds in the early morning, free of gossiping girls and yelling boys, void of any human life but my own. The breeze is crisp but light, and the sunlight that shines on me is warm and perfect. This is when I am closest to being happy, when I am alone with only my thoughts as company.

Eventually I realize that classes are going to start soon, so I summon my books and head off to the first class of the day. I hand in my assignments and sit next to Hermione and Ron, although I manage not to speak anything more than three words to them at a time all day. They share worried glances during every class, but I ignore them just as I do Draco. The teachers even seem worried, but I hand in all my assignments and complete all the work they assign in every class, giving them nothing academic to pin me down on.

Lunch is yet again spent alone, me skipping the meal fast becoming a daily ritual. The rest of the day is a blur, right up until supper.

It unfortunately is compulsory so I must attend, every day. At least, that's a rule as of this year. I sit with my table and eat a few bites of some peas and chicken, then give up on the meal as a whole. Ron prods me with questions of Quidditch, which I answer curtly, while Hermione tries to bring up how well I am doing in class. I always cut off a conversation before it starts; something that I have become a pro at. Eventually they give up and fall back into a conversation with the rest of my schoolmates, and leave me be.

The meal ends after who knows how much time and I am finally able to break free.

This is where my day really starts.

Draco casually approaches me as I exit the Great Hall alone, not bringing his cronies with him for once.

"So Potter, noticed a few changes in you lately. Sulking seems to have replaced Quidditch for you, huh?" His laugh is harsh, a laugh I despise.

"Shut up Malfoy." I get to the point and speed up, trying to put some distance between him and me.

"Oh, bitchy are we? No need to snap at me, snap at your ever so perfect Headmaster if anyone. He's the one that let you down." He's smirking by now, his smile like that of the Cheshire cat.

"Did you not understand me? Stop speaking, please." I speed up more now, the crowds far behind us as we cross hallway after hallway, climb staircase after staircase.

"I hit a nerve! Yes, if you need to be angry with anyone, let it be Dumbledore! He's the one who let you down, he's the one that caused your Godfather to die." I stop and let the words settle into my mind, let the idea that Malfoy, Draco Malfoy of all people knows about Sirius. Knows about my personal life, my inner problems.

"Stop it." I whisper. My voice has failed me, the air around me too thin to support my words.

"It's all true, and you know it. You show it every day, how much you hate him, hate being here. I know all about it Potter, all about what happened. I know about how you-"

"STOP IT! JUST STOP!" I explode at him, then implode onto myself. I can feel my resolve failing, can see the image of him falling through that veil, remember how I tried to shoot the Cruciatus curse out of such pure anger.

"Why should I stop? Why should I…" He's off and on about it again, but I'm already gone. I whip up the stairs, through the swung over portraiture of the fat lady, through the common room and up more stairs, until I reach the dormitory. I collapse into my bed, my breathing ragged not from running but anger and fear and sadness all at once.

I pull the hangings shut and just breathe for a while, trying to reel in my feelings, harness them. I _hate_ it when I let my guard down, let myself remember all the things around me. Let myself feel anything. If I eat anything that triggers a happy memory then that leads to something sad. If I talk to someone and the line 'Remember when…" comes up, it can lead nowhere good. If I could live my life in a shell, make everything around me quiet, then I would. If I could just be _alone_ for a little while, I feel like maybe I could fix myself up.

I sit alone for while, hoping that it lasts forever, angrily scribbling a note about all my thoughts and wishes on a scrap of parchment from my pocket. Splotches of ink from me attacking the parchment so angrily dot my lines, some sentences incoherent or ending halfway. The point isn't for the note to make sense to anybody, more that it purges my thoughts into something else, taking them away from me. I hear someone enter the room and I crumple the paper inside my palm, hiding it away from the world.

Alone is what I won't be. Ron comes, and tries to talk to me. I let him inside the hangings, my resolve failed. He tells me that he's always around if I need to talk, but that I don't have to. He asks me if I'm ok, what happened. I don't say a word, just nod at appropriate moments and shake my head 'no' when he asks if I'm ok. At least I'm not lying about something. I ask him to let me be alone for a little while, so he leaves, probably telling the other guys not to bother me. I'm ok with that.

I take out the knife Sirius gave me from under my bed frame, cutting the tip of my finger when I slide it along the blade. I have no clue what I'm going to do when I get there, but I know how I'll get in, at least.

I don the invisibility cloak that should be illegal by now, and head out. All I have is it, the knife and the note still resting in my palm. I just keep going down, down, down, until I reach the dungeons. My memories are foggy from all the years ago that I got into the Slytherin common room, but I somehow navigate all the twists and turns and manage to find my way in. The knife slides easily down the length of the door and I step into the common room unnoticed, the cool dungeon air making me shiver. I don't care.

There are two hallways, and since I can't enter one of them I start down the other instead, counting six doors until I arrive in what I think to be the Slytherin boys 6th year dormitory.

Indeed it is, only instead of a shared room it is another poorly lit hallway, with each door labeled with the last name of its occupant. Malfoy seemed to have claimed the very last room on the left hand side of the hallway as his own, and I sneak in with much help from the knife, allowing myself time to think about what I am going to do now that I'm here.

The walls are rough-hewn stone and are cold against my fingertips. Draco is asleep in a single bed on the far side of the small room, the magical window on the wall behind him casting an unearthly moonlit glow over the entire room.

"Who's there." He asks, his grey eyes snapping open suddenly, seeing straight through me. I take off the cloak without a second thought, not caring about the consequences. He gasps and bolts upright, his wand already drawn from his bedside table.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here Potter? How the hell did you get in, you creep?" his tone is abrasive and angry, his eyes flashing malice.

"I need to know how you found out all about me. How you know all the things you do." He's still searching for a reason to hex me, still worried and afraid. I guess that's why he's angry, he's like a cornered dog with no way to defend itself.

"My Father you nitwit, he's got his ways of…" he trails off, his eyes twitching down to my hand. "You're not here to talk, you're here to knife me! You're unbelievable Potter!" he's yelling now, having spotted the knife in my hand and getting the wrong impression.

"No, you don't understand, just let me explain…" I try and comfort him with my words but he's yelling over me.

"You are sick and twisted Potter, but I'm not that stupid! I have the wand and therefore the upper hand here you stupid fuck, you thought you'd just come down here and kill me, huh?" He's standing now, advancing towards me. "You are not getting away with this that easily, I'm not letting you just run off! You are so going to pay for this, trust me." His words are angry and loud in my ears, I keep shaking my head 'no' but he just won't stop accusing me.

"Stop, stop, stop please, just let me explain." I'm only whispering, begging him to stop this and just listen, but now he's yelling, picking up steam.

"STOP IT! STOP SPEAKING, JUST STOP!" I scream at him, his words cut off abruptly by my outburst. I take the opportunity to turn and run back out, dropping the note and leaving my invisibility cloak far behind me. I run up every set of stairs, ignoring the burning in my lungs, the exhaustion of my legs. I just keep running until I get to my dormitory.

I'm shaking, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm confused. My roommates are all asleep, but they'll notice me soon enough.

I slip into the showers, and turn them all on as cold as they'll go. The water is freezing, waking me up from the absurdist dream of my life. I sit against a wall and shiver, thinking only about the sound of the water around me. It's not a soft pitter-patter of rain, but a hard sound against the white tiles. I'm so cold now that I wonder if I can even feel anything anymore, if I've finally managed to become numb, to disappear from reality without a trace.

I take out the knife and run it very, very lightly on the transparent skin of my wrist. It leaves a paper-thin trail of blood behind it, and when I see this it makes me feel sick. I think of it instead as drawing on my skin, not cutting but drawing.

I draw another line, then another. Each time I let it go a little deeper as I inch my way up my arm, testing to see how much of the stinging pain I can endure. By the time I'm almost at the crook of my arm my hand is shaking so violently that when I go to make a semi deep cut, it goes all the way in. The pain isn't what I'm expecting, so I try and pull the knife up but I only succeed in slicing deeper, all the way across.

My teeth are chattering, but I can't hear them. I watch my arm bleed for a few seconds, then begin to feel faint from watching it, from it flowing so much and so long. I pull my knees up a little, sit with my back against the freezing bathroom wall. My arm rests on my knees, scarlet pouring down my legs and around my waist, pooling and swirling around me in the water, going from red to pink as it moves away.

I realize what I've done, what this looks like.

I scream.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_Harry? Harry, say something, come on, don't do this to me. Say something Harry! What happened? What's wrong?"_

_Ron's soaking wet, but I can't quite place why. I'm wet too, and cold. I'm shivering, and I can't stop. I'm crying and I don't know when that happened either. There's water everywhere, red water on the white tile floor. I want him to explain this to me, tell me what's wrong, but he doesn't have the answers to my questions. I can't ask them, and he can't explain._

_I wish that this would_

_All_

_Just_

_Stop._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N:** Please review!

mintapotter


	2. And I Know the Mistakes That I've Made

**A/N: **Thank you to the reviewers: **Asha**, **yehudi13**, **Blue Lycan**, **shorty-girly**, **Crysania Fay**, **aishteru**, **Dracori**, **brionyjae**, **lilasiancutie **and **Vespalady **!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 2 - …And I Know the Mistakes That I've Made…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Hermione starts to cry on my shoulder and by the time I'm at the part of getting Harry into my bed she's trying really hard not to outright sob and failing miserably in her attempt. I stroke her hair but say nothing, wishing I could just soak into the Infirmary chair and be a million miles away from this place, these problems. Dawn is breaking outside, a new day for the students and staff of Hogwarts. Birds are chirping and dew is just starting to evaporate into the morning air. I'm stuck here in this time bubble hellhole, waiting to see what will come of this new day, what will happen next._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ron? Ron, wake up!"

All I can think is that it can't already be morning. Harry always wakes me up early, but this still feels like I've barely been asleep an hour. And Harry never talks to me, never speaks a word that means anything.

I open my eyes to the still dark dormitory, Neville's pale face hovering just outside of my bed hangings. Its obviously still nighttime and I turn over with a huff to block him out.

"Ron! This is important! Harry's not here, and I can hear something in the bathrooms!" I bolt upright, throw off my blankets and near push Neville over in my haste to reach Harry's bed. When I pull back the hangings to his cold and empty sheets I know that he snuck out earlier with the invisibility cloak, something I should have prevented him from doing.

"Do you hear that?" Neville whispers again, so I stop moving and listen. Sure enough, the faint sound of flowing water from the bathrooms can be heard through the wall, but it wouldn't be Harry. He always showers in the mornings to avoid everyone, to keep his distance from us.

I walk in to check it out, passing the rows of sinks and mirrors, seeing the reflected image of the stark white shower room in them. Every tap is on and flowing, but there's no steam so they must be on cold.

The floor.

The floor is blood red.

Red with blood.

I gasp, and as I rush into the room I hear a scream, an ear-piercing scream. In the split second before I even enter the room, I already know who it is. I already know that Harry's in there, that something has gone very, very wrong.

Harry's slumped against the side wall, blood mixing with the water all around him. His head is thrown back, his mouth open and screaming, no words, just screaming. I rush towards him, shake his shoulders and gasp, falling backwards in disbelief. His entire arm is drenched in blood, from his hand to his elbow. He thankfully has stopped screaming, but he's shaking badly, his teeth chattering loudly adn echoing in the tiled room.

I turn and stand in the spray of frigid water, mentally ordering it all to stop. Every tap instantly shuts off, revealing most of the 6th year dormitory standing in shock by the sinks, not yet able to see Harry on the floor. That's the way it's going to stay.

"You! " I yell at Seamus, "run and get Dumbledore! Don't stop until he gets here, just tell him it's urgent! Neville, get Pomphrey! Tell her its Harry, and that he needs her now! Dean, get McGonagall down here as of now! _Go!_" They all turn to run, knowing simply that it's urgent and that explanations will be given later. I grab a towel from a rack beside the doorway and rush back to Harry, alone with just him now. I wrap his arm tightly, again and again, hoping to stop the bleeding, but the blood keeps seeping through. Sirius' knife lies on the ground beside him, still steadily dripping blood from the blade.

"Harry? Harry, say something, come on, don't do this to me. Say something Harry! What happened? What's wrong?" He's crying now, sobbing into my shoulder. We're both soaked to the bone, but his skin feels like ice through his shirt. He just sobs, his whole body shaking with every breath. I kneel beside him and pick him up much too easily. He's so thin, so frail that even soaking wet he's light as a feather. I rush into the dormitory and lie him down on his bed, trying immediately to warm him up.

"Harry, talk to me! Tell my how this happened, just say something! Anything!" My own voice is hoarse and tight, my own throat closing up from wanting to cry right along with him. He is so pale now, his skin a pallid, sickly shade of white, his jet-black hair like ink spilling into his face, making him appear even more deathly. He hasn't spoken a word, he teeth chattering and his normally bright green eyes closed. I undo his shoes and peel off his socks, and throw his blanket and then my own over him.

"Just stay with me a little while Harry, don't do this to me. You can't fall asleep, not yet." I dig under the blankets and grab his hand, trying to rub some warmth into the ice-cold bony fingers. He occasionally opens his eyes to look around, look at me, but it appears as though he recognizes nothing.

I hear footsteps behind me, McGonagall at my side only seconds before Dumbledore joins us as well.

"What happened here Mr. Weasley, what on earth…" McGonagall trails off, covering her mouth at the sight of Harry's pallid face.

"I found him in the showers, I think he cut up his whole arm. They were all on so cold, the taps, so he was just shivering and…" I turn away, my throat closing up. "He's not speaking, hasn't said a word since then and…" I bite my lower lip to keep from crying, trying to breathe deeply and remain in control. "It's all my fault. I should have known, I knew that something would happen…This is the biggest mistake of my life. And just fix him, please? Just figure out something that'll fix him. He hasn't been the same since… has barely eaten, never talks, does anything to avoid everyone…" Pomphrey rushes in and McGonagall shoos us all out, herding us out and into the common room. I hadn't noticed any of the other boys hovering at the back of the room until now.

"I know that it's useless to try and get any of you to sleep, just please stay quiet in here and don't worry. Everything will be taken care of, Madam Pomphrey has an extensive knowledge of potions and remedies and I'm sure that Harry will be fine by the morn-"

"You can't just fix him with potions! This isn't some little injury that'll just go away! It's like you all ignore it and pretend that nothing's wrong!" I yell at her mid-sentence, not feeling remorseful for being disrespectful or emotive. I really can't stand how she talks, how she acts like this is something that'll just be fine by the morning.

"Mr. Weasley, I know that you're quite emotional right now but that does not call for outbursts like that one." I'm angry enough right now to simply scream at her until I'm blue in the face, but I decide against it and instead concentrate on the fact that I'm soaking, covered in a lot of Harry's blood and cold as hell.

"I need to get changed Professor." Before she can rebuke me or pull me back down, I've bolted up the stairs and back into the dormitory. Dumbledore doesn't even turn around as I enter, probably already knowing that I'd return. Pomphrey has Harry's injured arm out to the side of the bed, pouring a misty blue potion over it. The cuts heal rapidly, leaving red scars in place of the open cuts. With a whip of her wand she has the arm perfectly bandaged, then turns and sighs, tired of this already.

"Mr. Weasley, please grab some clothing to change into before you catch a cold. I know that there's no separating you from Mr. Potter, so you'll be staying overnight in the Infirmary, I presume." I nod and summon a quick change of clothes from my trunk, ready to go already.

"I think it best that Ms. Granger is told the same. Minerva, would you please?" Dumbledore asks McGonagall as she only just huffs into the room before she nods and heads back out, sent to get Hermione.

Harry's still deathly pale so Dumbledore has to turn my shoulders and arch me away from staring at his face, towards the small fireplace in the corner of the room.

"You first Ron. Just say the Infirmary." He says, then stands back. I ritually grab the Floo powder from a red and gold silk bag on the mantle, say the magic words and step into the fire, whooshing for only a moment before I arrive at the Infirmary. The smell of cleaning potions and charms all around me makes my stomach swoop, reminding me only of injuries and hospitals. I stand back and wait as Dumbledore, the Pomphrey and Harry arrive together. Harry looks about to keel over the moment he steps out of the fireplace, so I drape his good arm around my shoulder and guide him to a bed; pre-made and set up by the house-elves of the Infirmary. A 'Get Well, Sir!" card lies next to the bed, the writing almost illegible and most definitely Dobby's. I actually smile as I see that the bedside table is already full of gifts from elves that love Harry so deeply. I help him lie down, then am forced from the little room by a very sharp-tongued Pomphrey.

"Ron! Tell me exactly what happened, I need to know every detail! Oh, I knew that this was going to happen…" Hermione rushes up behind me in a flurry, followed closely by McGonagall. Her hair flows out behind her, the curly masses making her appear as though a hurricane moving towards me at top speed.

"I'll… give me a minute, will you?" I mumble, collapsing into a chair against the nearest wall, watching Madam Pomphrey's shadow against the white sheet she has pulled around Harry's bed. She continuously pours potions into small cups and containers, bending down and blurring with the shadow of Harry to feed him the concoctions.

"It would be for the best if the two of you slept back in your dormitories…" McGonagall starts, then seems to reprimand herself, "but it's been a very exhausting night and you'll probably get no sleep anyway. I'm sure you two can make use of the beds in here, seeing as how it's nearly empty. Oh, and you obviously exempt from tomorrows classes, although your schoolwork will be sent up to you at the beginning of the day. Try and get some sleep. He'll pull through, there's no need to worry." She pats my shoulder and offers a reassuring smile before leaving with Dumbledore through the tall Infirmary doors.

"So…" Hermione seems impatient, but she has waited far long than I would have to hear this story.

"I made a terrible mistake Mione…" I begin…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Hermione starts to cry on my shoulder and by the time I'm at the part of getting Harry into my bed she's trying really hard not to outright sob and failing miserably in her attempt. I stroke her hair but say nothing, wishing I could just soak into the Infirmary chair and be a million miles away from this place, these problems. Dawn is breaking outside, a new day for the students and staff of Hogwarts. Birds are chirping and dew is just starting to evaporate into the morning air. I'm stuck here in this time bubble hellhole, waiting to see what will come of this new day, what will happen next._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Please review and tell me what you think!

mintapotter


	3. See Me Crumble and Fall On My Face

**A/N: **Thank you to **myka**,** saFire flamE**, **brionyjae**, **aishteru**, **oliver1234**, **ravendreamer04**, **yehudi13**, & **Blue Lycan.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 3 – …See Me Crumble and Fall On My Face…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Harry's on his back, plainly not even trying to defend himself. Draco Malfoy is standing over him, pointing his wand at his heart and spitting venom with his eyes. If I ever saw two people who looked more like they were about to murder, it was Draco staring at Harry and Ron glaring at Draco. Ron takes off at a sprint to pummel Malfoy, and most of the Slytherin and Gryffindor classes are already in hot pursuit of him. By the time we reach them however, Harry is standing and glaring equally at Draco. Anger pours out of the sneer on Draco's mouth._

_"You," Malfoy mouths angrily, "did this!" he points at his mouth._

_"**Fix it."**_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I wake up and my mind is already grumbling at what he day has to offer. I think mostly of how depressed Ron is getting at trying to deal with Harry daily, and how eventually he'll have to give up and let him figure it out for himself. I turn over and worry about how the potions essay I wrote yesterday doesn't have quite the type of emphasis on sandalwood as I could have wished, but that it'll have to do for now.

I sit up yawn, open my eyes wide and then stop to wonder. Where am I, and when did I get here? A quick glance around revels that I am still at Hogwarts, in the Infirmary in fact. Did I get hurt? Was I in a coma or something?

Then I see Ron slumped in a chair against the wall opposite me, nursing a cup of steaming coffee and everything suddenly comes back. How I had been awoken last night by McGonagall, Ron's explanation and then a lot of crying. After that it's mostly a blur, then sleep takes over. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and head towards Ron, grabbing a tea from beside the tray perched beside him

"What time is it?" He shrugs and sips his coffee slowly. "Dunno," he replies, "last I checked with Pomphrey it was half past six."

He's looking particularly haggard and run down this morning, probably sleeping little if any in the few hours since we arrived. "Since when have you been awake?" I'm trying not to prod, and this is the roundabout way of asking him if he slept at all.

"About an hour or so. Couldn't sleep, so I sat up instead." He shrugs again, sipping his coffee as a distraction from talking to me.

"How about I sit guard here in case anything important happens and you can," I ruffle his ear length ginger locks, "go take a shower and properly wake up. Use the Prefect bathrooms, or these ones. Just take a break." He nods at the idea, then gets up to leave without a word. I can tell that that's exactly what he's been doing all morning, sitting guard over Harry through the sheet partition just in case anything huge happens. He's so loyal that it almost hurts to watch, knowing that he's giving all he's got to keep Harry afloat, when Harry can barely take enough time to care which way is left or right. Ron's always there to guide him along, and he always does it with no acknowledgement or fanfare. He's just Ron, which's the way he is. That's why I love him.

I watch him leave the room and enter an adjoining one, the men's bathrooms for this wing. Then all I can do is sit and wait it out, watch and see what happens.

For nearly an hour Ron is gone, and the only person in and out of the thin white sheet in front of me is Pomphrey. She always comes out to tell me that everything is fine and steady, that both Ron and I might be able to visit for a little while tonight. The thought that Harry is awake and coherent enough to hear us, but can't physically see us makes me a little sad, like he's been quarantined away from the rest of the world.

A few first year girls come in complaining of sick stomachs to get out of Care of Magical Creatures during first period, then a number of third year boys who got into some sort of fight and all ended up hexed to the high heavens. Ron returns smelling of steam and shampoo, his hair a dark red from still being half soaked. He manages a tiny chuckle at the sight of the boys being sternly reprimanded by Pomphrey, but his momentary happiness is short lived.

Draco Malfoy of all people strolls into the room, his Prada-like perfection honed down to a fine art by now. Everything about him is shined leather, fine grey cashmere and black wool, every strand of hair perfectly tousled and every thread in place. He carries a twine bound package of papers, although that's the least of our worries.

He nods at us casually, with no malice or snide name-calling rolling off his tongue. I give Ron a quizzical look, one that he reciprocates completely.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Ron's bristling; no doubt feeling that Draco has encroached into his personal space. Draco does nothing by lay the package down on the floor in front of me, causing me to blush since I'm still dressed in a measly nightgown.

He just shrugs and points at the package. He even manages a small smile before he turns to return to class, leaving a stunned Ron and myself in his wake.

"Uh… thanks?" is all I can manage, but Ron can barely keep his mouth shut. Not only was he completely civil and level headed, he was actually being nice. No name calling, no taking the mickey out on Harry when he couldn't defend himself, even a small friendly smile before he left. This is _not _the Draco Ron and I know, not at all.

Ron gives me a laughable face of utter amazement, and I can only shrug and grin in response. I leave him to open the homework package and contemplate this without me.

I'm already signaling a house elf from around the corner to go and fetch me a pair of fresh clothing, and thankfully (because it's Winky) she complies. I just sit back and absent-mindedly began on our new Herbology essay.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"You two may visit him for 5 minutes, then it's back to your dormitories for the both of you." Madam Pomphrey pulls back the sheet surrounding Harry's bed and walks away, allowing us some privacy for our shortened visit.

"Harry? Hey, it's Ron and Hermione here. How are you doing?" Ron's voice is so soft, like loud noises might break Harry. At the first glance of his face though, even I think that maybe its possible.

He's pale and gaunt looking, haunted even. His one arm is completely bandaged from the wrist to the elbow, the starched white cloth not providing much contrast to the colour of his skin. His lips are cracked and parched, his eyes hollow and dead.

It's the first time that I can say that I'm really afraid of what Harry can do to himself. If he can manage this, how far can he go? How far _will_ he go, if he gets the chance again?

"Harry? You can talk to us mate, you can tell us anything. You know that, right?" Ron sits on the edge of the bed, stooping his head to try and catch Harry's eyes. His brilliant green orbs are suddenly a little bright, full of fresh tears. The corners of his lips pull down into a sob; his strong hands already up to cover his face from the world.

"I'm always so alone." He only mouths the words, not a sound coming out. Then he starts to cry, Ron holding onto him for dear life, me rubbing Ron's shoulders to keep him from breaking down as well. I haven't said a word yet, only now finding the right ones to say.

"Harry, you and Ron and me have been through everything here together. You're never alone, you'll always have us." He shakes his head 'no', rubbing the tears from his eyes with the heels of his palms, breathing deep like he's just run a marathon.

"I'm sorry, but you two must go now. You can stop in tomorrow morning and after supper, depending." Pomphrey ushers us out of the room after a quick goodbye from Ron and I, then we are left in the empty hallway outside the Infirmary with nothing to look forward to except talking to the entire Gryffindor tower about the drama from the night before.

"Well," Ron lets the word slip off his tongue. He looks as though in shock from the situation, like he could stand there all day and not care about what happens around him.

"Well what?" I ask, waiting for an answer.

"That was… harsh." I nod and sigh; holding his hand and leading him back to the tower.

"True, it was. But, it's nothing we can't handle. Harry'll be back in class before we know it, he always manages to bounce back from things. You'll see Ron, you'll see."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Thankfully Ron and I were spared a long explanation to Gryffindor tower because McGonagall had already given the real version to the 6th year students. The other students had simply been told that he had come down with a very nasty Muggle sickness, but should come out on top of it. The entire school bought the story, now knowing that Harry lived with a Muggle family and because it could explain away his sickly behavior for the past two weeks back at school.

And, to my actual dismay, Harry demanded to be back in class on the following Monday. Since his attempt at suicide on Thursday he had spoken not a single word, but had finished every project in the Infirmary to pass time and then had forced his way out on Monday morning and had shown up on time for our first period, Care of Magical Creatures. He had staunchly refused treatment by a Healer from St. Mungo's, only seeming to enjoy the visits with me and Ron and the prospect of returning to class as soon as possible. Pomphrey only let him out for a test run, he still had to report back to the Infirmary after classes.

"Harry!" Ron looked as though Christmas had come early, bounding over to him in a leap of joy. I couldn't have hidden my smile if I had tried, walking over behind him and giving Harry my own hug after Ron was done assaulting him.

To his credit, Harry did look many times better then he had when I had last visited him in the Infirmary. His cheeks had at least a tinge of colour in them, and he looked ten times better in a white button up and cloak then in the sickly coloured hospital-like gowns he had been in lately. He gave us both a small, appreciative smile but still wouldn't speak, although Ron and I pretended as though this wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

We were the only ones on the lawn outside of Hagrid's cabin, and as he walked out of it's front door he actually did a double take when he saw the three of us together again.

"'Arry! Long time no see! I can tell you already lookin' laods better!" Hagrid still appeared happy for him, ignoring the fact that he should still be in the Infirmary Wing and not on the front lawn of Hogwarts.

Harry smiled and shrugged, engulfed in a bear hug from Hagrid and hidden from sight for a few moments before they pulled apart.

"Uh Hagrid, Harry's throats really sore and he can't talk so can you not call on him today?" Ron pulled the lie out of his ass easily, not having to refer to either of us to create this lie.

"Oh, of course I won'!" Hagrid beamed some more, then asked Ron to help him unload some food for todays class.

"I'll be right back, ok guys?" Harry smiled so Ron left, the happiness still shining on his face. It still astounded me at how much he cared about Harry, how staunch a supporter he truly was.

I spoke to Harry for a little while, telling him that the other 6th year boys would be in shreds when they saw him, they were all so worried. Then I got a little laugh out of him when I explained how some of the girls fainted and had skipped all of Fridays classes on account of worry for him. It was strange how quickly I was becoming aquainted with his silence, understanding where it stemmed from and to leave it where it was until he was ready to deal with everything. Right now it was like his safety valve, an easy segregation between himself and the real world.

He nodded over to the hill behind the cabin and began to walk away, and I let him go for his own private stroll. He looked kind of peaceful in the mornings bright rays, like there was nothing better he could think of doing right now but to amble over the dew laden grass, enjoy the cool morning air. I let him be, checking over my Herbology essay due today in class and leaving him to wander within my field of vision.

Gradually some other Gryffindors and a couple of Slytherins begin to pour in for class, most of the Gryffindors having rushed and excited conversations on having their hero back. I tell everyone that his throats really sore from some potion and that he can't talk, but that he's already loads better. It hurts me a little to lie to everyone, but can't honestly think of another way out of the situation.

Draco Malfoy makes his entrance to class very subtly, blending in with everyone without saying a word.

"He was missing on Friday as well. Says he was sick, but everyone knows that he wasn't." Parvati Patil has grown into a vicious gossip, but this is an absolute truth that's backed up by a few other wondering people. I wonder about that, how he had been so civil on Friday while delivering our homework and yet skived class all day in his bedroom. Something wasn't adding up here, even though I wasn't sure what it was.

I went back to my work as Ron joins me, rubbing my back a little and still smiling like a loveable idiot. _My_ loveable idiot, as it was. It was sad that we still weren't official as a couple, even though we were nearly there anyway. It was the simple fact that the two of us were so stubborn and different that neither of us would ask the other one out. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek then-

All of a sudden Ron's attention is tugged away from me and onto something down the hill.

Harry.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Harry's on his back, plainly not even trying to defend himself. Draco Malfoy is standing over him, pointing his wand at his heart and spitting venom with his eyes. If I ever saw two people who looked more like they were about to murder, it was Draco staring at Harry and Ron glaring at Draco. Ron takes off at a sprint to pummel Malfoy, and most of the Slytherin and Gryffindor classes are already in hot pursuit of him. By the time we reach them however, Harry is standing and glaring equally at Draco. Anger pours out of the sneer on Draco's mouth._

_"You," Malfoy mouths angrily, "did this!" he points at his mouth._

_"**Fix it."**_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N:** Please review,

mintapotter


	4. Blame It On A Rush Of Blood To the Head

**A/N: **Remember, the first section of each chap inbetween the **xxxx**'s in _italics _is actually the ending of the chapter. And it was Draco who mouthed 'Fix it.' to Harry at the end of the last chapter. Anywho, major thank you's to: **Blue Lycan, brionyjae, Meg Finn, HPfreakout, yehudi13, Dracori **& **aishteru**! Thanx, and enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 4 …Blame It All Upon A Rush Of Blood To the Head…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I give up on trying to yell and mouth the words. I pull out my wand and write in forest green mist in the air, 'Ask him when he saw me last, and what exactly he did. He did this and he knows it, so now he has to fix it or pay.'_

_'You,' I point at him, 'gave me this.' I pull out the scrap of parchment, his eyes widening in fear at the sight of it. 'Give it to someone who gives a flying fuck.' I ball it up and throw it at his chest, he grabbing it midair in it's decent._

_"Gentlemen," a deep voice sounds from behind us, "I believe that to be enough. Follow me."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"STOP IT! STOP SPEAKING, JUST STOP!"

Harry screams at me, his eyes pleading and his voice hoarse with emotion. I instantly stop all sound, scared at the level of intensity with which he demands my silence.

He turns, dropping a slip of parchment onto the floor behind and whips out of my doorway in a flash. I start towards the door to follow him, turn him in, but the steady sound of his footsteps slapping against the stone stops me.

_If he didn't come here to knife me through and through, then why'd he come at all?_

I shut the door quietly, not wanting any uninvited guests wandering into my room to ask any questions about the noise. The door and walls actually stop all sound from room to room, so I have nothing to worry about.

I turn to scan what state my room has been left in. Nothing seems too out of place, although the slip of parchment lays on the floor so I pick it up along with the silvery fluid like invisibility cloak and carefully fold them both, laying them in a neat pile on my bedside table. I'll decide what to do with them after.

I climb into bed and decide to at least investigate the parchment, see if it was some silly note or important letter. I have to squint in the semi-darkness, the words fragmented and written crazily, some sentences cutting off midway, blotches of ink smeared everywhere from the use of a very jittery handled quill.

"Terrible grammar…" I mutter to myself, the sounds dying on my lips

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Draco is a bad person he is evil he is mean he is so mean. How does he know everything about me and why wont he leave me alone? I just want to be alone all the time and DRACO DRACO DRACO is everywhere an in my mind and in the stairwell and

He is always there to bother me when I'm alone he always brings me down. I hate him, hate him, HATE HIM. I HATE DRACO MALFOY. I wish him to die and die over again in pain and always be silent and far away from me. I think he hates me too but he doesn't care to show it by killing me. That would be nice. I could go and see everyone and he would get in trouble. BIG trouble. We would both win if he would just Avad

I wish he'd go away. Why is he so loud and abrasive and loud and talkative and pushy and evil and everywhere? He is everywhere! I can't get him out of my mind even when I want to He makes me yell. And SCREAM scream scream at him all the time, but he's always yelling nonetheless overtop of me and my words and my silence and my thoughts

I want to be alone and quiet and to not remember anyone that I love and not think of them and how I am their killer and not see them or hear them or speak to them through people. I don't want to remember or think or hear. I want to be ALONE ALONE ALONE. And quiet quiet quiet, all by myself with my thoughts and wind and maybe draco and ron and mione and voldemort can come as long as they're quiet and don't make me remember things or talk or move or speak

I want to not feel anything at all, to be silent and live in silence and anyone can join me as long as they don't make me feel anything. If that is what dying is like, then I can't wait. That would be nice after all this time and living in all this shit and problems and

Just. Silence.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I sit and re-read the note again, then once more just to be sure that I understood every part. I refold it carefully and place it next to the cloak, settling into my bed and covering my face with the covers until all I hear is nothing and all I see is black.

I caused him _so much pain_, I am the root of so many of his evils. That note was like a look into Harry's everyday thoughts, his innermost feelings and wishes and hopes.

My throat feels sore and my eyes itch. I'm not sure why, I don't think that I'm allergic to anything. I can hear a choking sound, like a repressed sob. My throat aches and I don't want to know why, or to understand why my cheeks are so wet.

I turn over and bury my face into my pillow, the sobbing sounds and the wet feelings nearly erased but not quite completely gone. I think of tomorrow, of what I will do when I wake up, of what to wear. I decide that tomorrow I will wear something new so that I don't remember anything by wearing something with memories attached. I decide on how to do my hair and what to eat at breakfast and how to act in class once I discover that Potter isn't there anymore.

My throat feels better after I think of all these things, my face isn't wet anymore. I turn and face up, pull the covers down and take a deep, cool breath.

Tomorrow will go as planned. Tomorrow has a plan, tomorrow is just as safe as yesterday.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I rub the sleep out of my eyes and turn on the showerhead as hot as I can stand it, my morning ritual to the everyday me. I shampoo my hair, rinse it out and reach for the conditioner.

I start to hum a little tune, but can't hear myself. I turn down the power of the jets, try to hum louder. I reach for my own throat and feel the vibrations within in, feeling my Adams apple bob as I try to make sounds. Nothing comes out.

"_STOP IT! STOP SPEAKING, JUST STOP!"_

I turn off the water, stand stock still in the tile cubicle and breathe deeply. Turning around I scream at the wall, craving the sound of my voice echoing back from the hard surface. I contort my face and open my mouth wide and force the sound out, but silence envelops me. I turn quickly, slip on the floor and listen to the resounding knocking sound of my head hitting the slick floor.

A real yelp is what I feel on my lips, but nothing connects with my ears.

I lay on the floor rather than get up, and think. The throbbing at the back of my head is ignored, something to rub for now and deal with seriously later.

"_STOP IT! STOP SPEAKING, JUST STOP!"_

Perhaps it was more than words? Perhaps he wanted me to stop speaking and I can't until he tells me I can? Perhaps I have gone deaf and simply can no longer hear myself.

I scoff silently at this, remembering the sound of the waters jets and dull knocking sound of my head meeting the tile floor. I can still hear knocking come to think of it, persistent knocking outside of the bathroom walls.

I throw a thick grey terrycloth robe on and open my bedroom door to a disgruntled looking Professor Snape.

"Good morning Draco." His monotone voice reverberates all around us on the stone walls, a sound I wish I could reciprocate.

"Can't talk." I mouth, pointing to my throat and making as though it is very painful to say the words.

"That is fine, you need not talk anyway. I need you to deliver this to Granger and Weasley in the Infirmary this morning however, within the first two classes. I'll give you permission for the day off, seeing as your throat is useless. Good day." He leaves quickly, pushing a package of homework assignments into my hands. I leave it on my bed and go to towel off and dress for the day. My elbows are scratched from hitting the tiles and burn against the fabric of my shirt, and my head throbs at the back where it connected with the floor. I ignore these insignificances, check myself over in the mirror one last time before leaving the room with package in tow, headed for the Infirmary.

I avoid any human life as I stroll through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, all students and teachers currently busy with classes. As I enter the Infirmary I can feel my pulse rushing a little faster, my hands tingling with worry.

What do I do? What can I say, how do I explain any of this?

I decide against any explanation at all, instead heading straight for Granger and Weasley without a word having to be exchanged with Pomphrey. They look like living death, Weasley still freshly scrubbed from a morning shower and still looking as though he's been deprived of coffee and sleep for days. His female counterpart is still donning her nightgown from the night before, her hair a bush of knotted curls and her eyes worried with the unknown.

Had I been able to talk I might have said something snide to get a reaction out of Weasley, but even without the ability to I don't think I would have the heart.

"What do you want Malfoy?" he's already ready for a confrontation, but I ignore his taunt and lay the twine bound package at Grangers feet instead, shrugging it off. I smile at them and turn to leave the way I came, the closest I feel I will ever get to support them or Harry in any way.

"Uh…thanks?" Granger manages as I leave, a smile crawling across my lips at her bewilderment. She is one rarely to be confused, but I managed to leave her a puzzle to unfold with Weasley for the rest of the weekend.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I spend all day in my bedroom, sending a note with a house-elf for food at breakfast, lunch and dinner, but never speaking a word to any of them. I analyze Harry's note over and over again, count the number of times he mentions my name (6) and how much he thinks I am evil, mean, and generally hates me (16). After I finish my solitary dinner I try the Invisibility cloak on and walk unbidden through the corridors for a little while, the feeling of being surrounded by talking people and completely unnoticed astoundingly powerful. I crave the feeling of being with other people, of _talking_ but this is my closest option without having to explain on paper why I can't talk.

"I heard," I can hear Pansy Parkinson gossiping in the common room and I follow her voice into it, " that he slashed himself up."

"No fucking way!" a few boys and girls from our year stop their lazing on the chairs to form a rank about her, breathing in every harsh word she speaks as though the gossip were oxygen.

"No, it's completely true! Seamus Finnigan told this Hufflepuff who's a really good friend of his and we used a few drops of Veritaserum and a well placed Obliviation charm on him to get the information!" She seems oddly proud of this feat, something I normally would have thought of doing. Now it makes me sick, the thought of prying so deeply into other people's affairs seeming to be going to far.

"But Harry bloody Potter knifing himself up? Over what? What the hell does he have to worry bout?" they all laugh, cold hard cruel laughter that fills the room. The unspoken word is 'Voldemort', someone none of us will ever need to fear, other than in obedience.

I slip out quickly and back into my room, my stomach churning over the thought of this. I empty my dinner down the porcelain toilet in my bedroom moments later, returning to my desk in deep thought.

I count the number of times he mentions hating Voldemort or being scared of him in the note. It doesn't come up once.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I feel as though I am becoming a hermit.

Draco the Hermit.

I don't like the ring of it, though the description seems fitting. I spend all day in my room, ordering food through notes to the kitchens and working on my homework in complete silence. The same walls that keep any sounds I could make in also keep all the outside noises out. I slip out every so often to remember that I am still a human in the school full of other people, to hear real voices talking. I've started to wear thick socks in my room because the sound of my footsteps annoys me.

I spend a straight hour on Sunday trying to scream out of frustration. I try to whisper, sing, hum, cough, speak etc… until the only thing I could possibly use to communicate with others would be sign language, which gets me absolutely nowhere.

I decide to stop dwelling on the note that sits atop the cloak, stop counting other references. So far I have a complete list with:

_My name: 6_

_Voldemort: 1_

_Hate me: too many references_

_Silence/quiet:8_

_Number of times I've read it: 47_

Every time I go through I erase the last number and up it, but my own limit is 50. I can't become obsessed with this is what I tell myself. I lay out tomorrow's outfit to give me something to do, something real to look forward to. I plan to make a statement, to emerge from the life of solitude once and for all.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Monday morning is much less eventful than last Friday was. I shower in the heat, wash and brush my hair carefully. I pick the lint off my cloak by hand, flicking away non existent pieces in an odd habit I've picked up. Checking my shoes for spots of dirt or general grime, I brush my teeth and check my hair one last time before leaving.

I wait to make sure that there isn't a living soul lift in our common room. I am basically right, seeing as the only girl left in the room has killed approximately 19 of Hogwarts house elves and doesn't seem to have much of a soul (or brain) left.

Every single one of my steps on the stone makes me angrier, the sound reminding me of the one thing I cannot do. I skip breakfast, opting for as little human interaction as necessary.

I hear the voices down by Hagrid's hut before I see the people, hear the chatter and gossip beginning as I stroll in. I examine the area, spotting Granger sitting and working on some essay or another, Weasley carrying out something with Hagrid around the back. And then, I spot my target.

Harry Potter.

I didn't actually expect to see him here, rather thought I would visit him at lunch or on break. He is walking around a small clearing on the edge of the woods, not speaking to or near any student that would get in the way of me throttling him.

I walk quickly down towards him, every stride deliberate and fast. He turns before I am close enough to get my point across to him.

I walk straight up to him and shove him as hard as I possibly can, hoping against hope that his head will connect with a stone or branch and create a magnificent cracking sound. No such luck.

The crowd behind us is already stampeding, Ron and Hermione no doubt in the lead. I don't turn or give them the time of day, rather stare into Harry's eyes to get him to understand how serious this is, how angry he has made me. He has the nerve to glare back, not even drawing his wand to fend off mine. He stands slowly, the posse of our class now settling behind him

"You did this!" I point at my mouth for emphasis. "Fix it."

"What the bloody fuck to you think you are doing Malfoy?" Ron is yelling at me, the sound loud and abrasive in my ears. His voice makes me angry, the nerve he has to yell at me…

"He did this!" I try and yell and still not a sound, not a single fucking sound. "YOU did this! Now fix it!" I speak each word slowly, easily enough to read each one on my lips.

Harry turns away and shakes his head, like he doesn't want to believe it, to take my word on it.

"How did Harry do that? How exactly did he manage that? He hasn't seen you since Thursday when you were quite plainly talking and being a general prick!" Ron's voice is followed by a chorus of rowdy Gryffindors their hands pulled tight in fists.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I give up on trying to yell and mouth the words. I pull out my wand and write in forest green mist in the air, 'Ask him when he saw me last, and what exactly he did. He did this and he knows it, so now he has to fix it or pay.'_

_'You,' I point at him, 'gave me this.' I pull out the scrap of parchment, his eyes widening in fear at the sight of it. 'Give it to someone who gives a flying fuck.' I ball it up and throw it at his chest, he grabbing it midair in its decent._

_"Gentlemen," a deep voice sounds from behind us, "I believe that to be enough. Follow me."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Please review, as always.

mintapotter


	5. You Need To Go On

**A/N: **Thank you to: **coolmarauders, aishteru, brionyjae, yehudi13 **& **HPfreakout **!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 5 – …You Need To Go On… 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_I will ask a few house elves to collect your things and will meet the two of you up at the corridor for the Infirmary in a few minutes. I trust that the two of you will both make it up there in one piece?" I can tell that Draco is ready to explode at me, angry that his 'imprisonment' is beginning so quickly but he simply nods and begins walking away with Harry at his heels._

"_Those two… will learn in time." I shake my head and turn to finish up the loose ends of this new arrangement._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

From the moment the school year started I could sense trouble in young Mr. Potters world. He wasn't eating right, didn't talk much or take up Quidditch with any enthusiasm. He seemed lost but also gave the administration no academic reason to give him any concern because his marks soared far and above nearly all others. I had sat many a day in my office, worrying about his condition and knowing full well that any interference by me would probably result in something terrible.

So I sat back and waited.

Then, not even days ago I was summoned from my chambers early in the morning with the gut feeling that something was terribly wrong. I have known Harry for years and never have I thought him capable of such a thing, never in my life had I ever doubted his own will to live.

That weekend was among the worst of my life, with many reassurances from Poppy and many more to be doled out by myself to Harry's two most loyal friends. We all knew that they alone could not watch him all hours of the day, couldn't be made to look after his welfare in the moments he managed to be alone. So, I came to the decision with Minerva to keep him somewhere with magical guards, with sensors to keep himself from being a danger to his own health and well being.

This morning however he was adamant about getting out, about leaving the Infirmary and participating in at least one class for the day, to have some semblance of normalcy. I let him go against my better judgement, a thought that haunted me greatly until I took the time to go down to his first class and see for myself what could have possibly gone wrong with it.

I couldn't even have guessed.

Draco Malfoy looked ready to kill Harry right then and there and the only thing keeping Ronald Weasley from killing him was Hermione Granger's presence. Harry looked as though he was sorry for even existing, for creating a scene or making any fuss.

"Gentlemen, I believe that to be enough. Follow me." Draco was seething but walked behind me, Harry following beside him within a second or so. They both traveled in silence, not a word or ill meaning whisper passing between the two of them.

"The only reason," I began, "That the two of you wouldn't have cursed each other down there was if neither of you could. Lemon Throat Drop, Mr. Malfoy? I hear you had quite the sore one last Friday." He began to explain in earnest and stopped himself, drawing his wand again from his cloak pocket and writing in elegant forest green writing in the air.

_'I didn't have a sore throat sir, I used that as a reason in case I got my voice back. But Harry here seems to have taken that away from me and I would greatly appreciate if he would give it back.'_ He turned to stare Harry in the eye but he was still watching the green mist disappear.

"Harry, may I inquire as to how or why you stole Mr. Malfoy's voice?" He shrugged, bringing out his own wand.

_'I didn't mean to, and I don't know how I did. I'm sorry.'_ His words were too in deep green but were simple letters rather than Malfoy's flamboyant script.

_'Liar! You did it and you know it!'_ Malfoy instantly retorted in the air, his wand making swishing sound he wrote so quickly.

"Now, now, we do not know that as of yet. Perhaps Harry did this in a time of extreme emotion?" Harry nods, picking at his nails nervously. "Ah, then that explains it. It was unintentional magic Mr. Malfoy, a kind you cannot control or simply fix. If Mr. Potter really wanted to take your voice away that badly I do not believe that he will be able to restore it unless he really wanted to. And you give him no reason to even subconsciously do that." Draco looks horrified at the thought and Harry only seems remorseful, like this is all still his fault.

"This is not entirely your fault Harry. You did not mean to do this and you cannot fix it until you really want to. So…" I tap my fingers against my chin thoughtfully "it would be best for you to have a reason to give Mr. Malfoy his voice back, but you can't possibly have one with the relationship the two of you have had in the past. Harry, you are now to take all classes and meals until further notice within the chambers of recuperation next to the Infirmary. I will have your things moved there and we will discuss visiting times and the such later." Harry nods still, remorseful at the things he cannot control. "And you Mr. Malfoy, will join him."

He takes a moment to reign in his fury before turning to me slowly, not bothering to write the words in the air now.

_'What?' _he mouths angrily.

"Yes, you will be staying in the same rooms as Mr. Potter for the time being. You will still take all your courses and have time to visit with your friends. But you will share meals and living quarters until you can give him," I nod at the sullen looking Harry, "a reason to give you your voice back. Until then, I only ask that you are civil and bearable with each other."

Harry takes all this without a word or outburst but I can see the wheels turning in Draco's mind, tell what he is thinking about the situation. As long as he sees it as a situation that benefits him he will agree and anyone would be desperate at this point to be able to talk, speak, converse.

_'Fine. It's a deal, but only until this is fixed.'_ He gets up to leave, brushing his cloak of dust off.

"I ask of you nothing more Mr. Malfoy, nothing more."

Draco gets up to make his hasty retreat out of the office and Harry stands to follow, but I gesture him to sit back down.

"Mr. Malfoy, could you please stay a moment in the hallway outside? I just need a moment to speak to Mr. Potter here before we will both be out." He nods and leaves quickly, the room leaking the tension that had built in the past few minutes.

"Harry, I want to apologize firstly for the fact that this will not be easy for you in the least. I don't want to make your life any harder than it already is, but this needs to be resolved, and quickly." It still makes me sad to see Harry so regretful looking about what he has done.

"You will move today and spend the rest of the day getting settled. This week is free for the both of you just to see if this can all be resolved within that time. After that you can go back to normal courses and the like. But Harry," I let myself use his first name since we are much closer than the average student and teacher, "you need to understand that you can take as much time as you need to get better. None of the bad in your life will ever just go away, at least not forever. You need to deal with it, and this is the time for you to do so. Myself, your professors and most importantly your friends are here for you whenever you need them." He nods, looking uncomfortable as always so I stand and gesture for him to leave, following closely behind him.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_I will ask a few house elves to collect your things and will meet the two of you up at the corridor for the Infirmary in a few minutes. I trust that the two of you will both make it up there in one piece?" I can tell that Draco is ready to explode at me, angry that his 'imprisonment' is beginning so quickly but he simply nods and begins walking away with Harry at his heels._

"_Those two… will learn in time." I shake my head and turn to finish up the loose ends of this new arrangement._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N:** Please review! (The time frame changes were intentional, if not awkward.)

mintapotter


	6. Do Back Things You Did to Me In Return

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 6 - …Do Back the Things (You Did to Me) In Return…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I am enjoying this new feeling._

_I see the light side of all this dark._

_I can get used to this power, this evil._

_I'm starting to really enjoy this, and I don't think that there's any going back._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"You are so fucking dead when we get there." Malfoy mumbles under his breath as we walk through yet another empty hallway, the sound of our footsteps adn his grumbling voice the only sounds echoing off the dingy walls.

We both continue to walk like nothing has happened, then stop at exactly the same moment.

"I… I can talk!" he turns around with the biggest look of glee, expecting me to say something. My mouth is halfway to exclaiming something sarcastic, but I stop myself early. I wonder if in the moment I decide to talk again I find out that I can't, the way Malfoy did.

"I need to show Pomphrey and then I'm free from you forever! Thanks Potter, even if you didn't mean to give me my voice back. About the only thing you're bloody good for." He walks faster now, a purpose in his getting to the Infirmary. I follow quickly just to keep up, afraid of being caught alone in the halls without someone to explain why I'm even still here.

Funny thing is, I didn't mean to give him his voice back. I never really intended to take it away either, only as kind of a wish. None of my wishes have ever come true before, at least none of the really important ones, but this one really seemed to stick. And the truth is that I like Malfoy much, much better when he isn't speaking, isn't being boisterous and fake and constantly loud.

We get to the Infirmary amazingly quickly, Madam Pomphrey waiting patiently for us outside of its doors. Malfoy makes a big show like he is talking, only this time nothing comes out. He spins on me, bristling like I did something to take his power away again. I can tell he's angry and wish nothing more than to grant him his voice and be done with him completely, but this time nothing happens.

"I already know that neither of you are speaking… for different reasons. Your room is ready, I am only to show you around it quickly because I have other patients waiting." Pomphrey is no nonsense, as always and a very angry Malfoy and myself follow her obediently.

"You have a shared room, two beds, two desks, a fireplace and a shared bathroom. It's a full commodities room, everything you'll need is here." It is much more lavish than I thought it would be though it lacks all personal comforts. The walls are a light, cheerful yellow with dark blue borders and similar navy objects placed throughout the room. The beds each have a thick comforter, the fire is spewing out cold air (bewitched by Dumbledore no doubt) and I am so relieved to see that the bathrooms tiles aren't white, but blue.

"Boys, one last thing." Malfoy and I return from our short adventure of the room to her. "This room has many sensors and charms placed on it. Any excess amount of pain, anger, sorrow and the like can be sensed by it and we will be alerted to it. 'We' being myself, Dumbledore and your Head's of Houses. Your trunks should be here any moment, so please unpack as soon as they arrive." She bustles out quickly, no locking sound clicking from the doorframe as she leaves.

"This is quite as terrible as I thought it would be." Malfoy's voice startles me, turning to see him staring directly at me. "Why exactly do you want me to stay here?"

I draw my wand and write _'I don't'_ in the air, not wanting to waste words with him now.

"Well obviously you do because I can only talk to you. Now why in the hell would that be?" I hate the hate in his voice, fear the fear I can tell he feels. I turn away, my trunk meeting with my knee at an uncomfortable height. They seemed to have transported themselves here while we didn't notice, and I begin to unpack rather than deal with Malfoy.

"You can't ignore me forever Potter. We are living together until you fix this you know, so deal with it." He turns away and leaves me in relative peace, beginning on his own trunk.

"You only have one? How pathetic Potter, I would have expected more from you." I shake my head at his constant buzzing in my ear. "I've never had less than 3." In turn to see that indeed, he has 4 trunks perched at the end of his bed rather than my usual one. I ignore him again, wishing him to go away.

"Speak up Potter, I can tell you're pissed at me. Just yell or something if you're mad, maybe then this whole spell will be lifted." I compulsively stack books on my bedside table, the bed nearest the large picture window.

"Come on Potter, say something. Yell, scream, I don't much care, just say something. Come one, you know you just want to…" he gets closer as he goads me on, my hands trembling harder as the distance between us shortens.

"Potter!" he screams in my ear and I actually flinch, something I used not to ever do. I turn and walk straight into the blue tiled bathroom, slamming the door behind me to drown out his voice.

"You can't just run away!" he's yelling at the door, jiggling the handle. I sit down in the shower stall, close the glass door behind me and cover my ears until I hear nothing but blissful peace.

Silence.

Awhile later I release my ears, hear footsteps outside the door. The handle is still in place, the yelling has ceased. I can only hope that he gave up.

"Where is Harry right now?" I can hear Dumbledores low voice outside the door and I scramble to open it, to tell him that I can't do this.

_'He was just looking through the bathroom Headmaster.'_ Malfoy's scrawl appears in front of my face as I re-enter the room, greeted not only by them but also by Professors McGonagall and Snape standing in the far doorway. Malfoy shoots me a look like '_what else can you say?'_ and I realize just what kind of position of power he is currently in. I can't possibly say _'Oh, Malfoy was yelling at me and I locked myself in the bathroom.'_ Because to everyone but us, he still can't talk.

_'Yes. The room's nice.'_ Even as I write this in the air I can see Malfoy's lips fighting against a smirk.

"Well, we hope that the both of you will like it. As of now the sensors are on, so please do not think you can get away with anything in here." He gives us both significant looks. "You will have this week free of classes, your assignments will be sent here every morning instead. If all is well you can get back into a normal schedule by next week, if not you may stay in here a week more. Your friends are anxious to see you, they will be here just in time for dinner I believe." He smiles, a gift of friendship he thinks he's bestowed on us. It really is sad that Hermione and Ron are the last two people I want to see right now, in the state I'm in but what other choice do I have?

"Your Head's of House both want a quick word with you before you get back to unpacking, understood?" we both nod mechanically, neither of us looking forward to this speech.

"Harry," McGonagall takes me aside from Snape and Malfoy, "I am dreadfully sorry that your year had to start like this. I want you to know that if you ever need anyone, the entire Gryffindor House and myself are always here for you. Do you need anything else that was left out of your suitcase?" I shake my head 'no' and she seems happy to be done with me for the day. "Try and unwind here Harry, will you?" I give her a little smile, the kind she wants to see, to believe that I am really going to try.

She leaves with Snape and neither of them looks back; their footsteps echo down the hallway.

"Well Potter, this will be more fun than I bargained for. No one will believe little old you _and_ you are inevitably stuck with little old me. Make this go away and I will leave as fast as I fucking can, trust me." I am still stuck on the notion that Malfoy thinks he has power over me, a role he has become much too accustomed to. I turn back to refolding clothes in a particular order, arranging my school supplies on my desk while thinking of how I'll switch the roles on him.

He unpacks with his wand; lazing on his bed and directing various things to float to their proper place. After one too many 'Wingardium Leviosas' I feel as though I might just snap. I turn to him and remember only after grabbing my wand that I cannot speak a single curse at him, and that kind of anger would set off alarms. So, I think of exactly what I can do to him that he would hate the very most at this moment.

A bottle of something or other drops from mid-air as I stare at it, shattering into a hundred shards on the warm stone floor.

"What in the bloody hell!" he jumps off the bed and to the broken object in a spilt second, it concerning him more than anything ever seems to have.

I turn back around and refold a t-shirt, keeping a crystal clean alibi. He never saw me draw my wand, or stare at that precious glass bottle and I pretend not to care that it's crushed contents meant so much to him.

"Potter… what did you do?" his voice sounds like it's about to break into tears, he stooped over the glass shards and trying in vain to understand how it fell. His eyes search the area for something it may have hit or smashed into, but he doesn't find anything to blame it on even when the real perpetrator stands right in front of him.

I shrug as if to say _'I don't know. I didn't do anything.'_ He goes back to the shards, his fingers bleeding as he cuts himself on more than one piece. Never did I think that simple act of anger would be so devastating, so completely terrible to him. I try to pass it off as he being vain and greedy, hating to lose anything. But even I know that this isn't true, that if it were something not so special he would be angry for a moment and then forget it and buy a new one.

_'What was it?'_ I draw the question near his face, he taking a long time to answer.

"It was a present, a cologne. Why do you care? I'll just get another. I can't believe my charm just died halfway through…" he trails off and begins to pick each piece of glass off the floor and onto his bed, keeping the bottom with it's last few precious drops of unspent liquid upright, hoping to save that final bit. I can tell he's more upset about this than anything before, and I have to turn away from him with a very heavy heart and mind. A stupid joke I did out of anger turned out to ruin one of the most valuable things he owned. I seem to be ruining more and more of his life as I go, and the tears he is holding back so difficultly well up in my own eyes.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

"What?" he whips around at my voice and my hand shoots up to cover my mouth as if I've just cursed in front of someone very prim, only this time I let something nice slip.

"Why are you sorry? Did you do this?" I can feel the anger rising up off of him, feel the rumbling in my stomach for fear of what he's going to do to me. Now that I have broken the silence between us I decide that this is my time. I push back the tears, bite back the pain in my sore throat and finally decide to take back the power that he now owns.

"I said I'm sorry for your loss, little Ms. Princess." He's so incensed now that this is where the power shift really begins, when the both of us are working on pure will and emotion rather than in a duel with wands. "You lost a present because you suck at charms, so I feel for you." I'm actually so afraid of this moment, what my words might make him do that I have forgotten more and more of the sensors in this room. They have probably been going haywire since we arrived so I choose to ignore them instead of keeping my emotions all bottled up.

"Potter, you take that back…" he threatens, a look of rage in his eyes.

"Or you'll what? Hurt me, in this room with all its sensors? I think not… but I've found a very convenient way of hurting you." He stops advancing towards me and I take that second to advance on him, shifting the roles. "I can use wandless magic, I can do as I please to your things, to you. If I can take your voice away without much thought and not get in trouble for it, what else do you think I can get away with?" He's still trying to look skeptical, but I see through that and much, much deeper into the fear he's feeling.

I feed off it.

"We are stuck here together, you and I. I want you silent, I want you out of my way, I want you to pretend like you don't exist. Understood?" a barely there nod of his chin is all that registers on his face, this new 'in control' me scaring him into submissiveness.

I like this feeling.

"If you break any of my rules, if you step out of line, if you make me angry… I will get you back. I have more than one ingenious way of hurting you Malfoy, and not all of them include physical pain. That little piece of shit you dropped is nothing compared to the kind of stuff I think of breaking." The words are so full of malice that it seems I am channeling Malfoy, turning his voice into mine.

"If you stick to the rules you might get out of here eventually. You tell anyone… they won't believe you." It sickens me to know that this at least is true, that everyone would think that Malfoy was lying just to get out of the Infirmary.

"You will start by throwing out all that glass." He shakes his head no, and I ignore his plea. "You will throw it all out because I hate that smell. You can do that, or you can unpack for me, fully."

I'm torturing him in the simplest of forms. I am forcing him to do things he doesn't even really have to do, doesn't want to. I have spun power out of thin air against my enemy. A manipulative being, a hateful person, the kind of person I hate most...that's what I'm slowly becoming. I am channeling the very evil that made me the person I am, the thing that created my scar and threw me into my fucked up family.

I am _enjoying_ this.

I watch Malfoy break down on the inside, finishing throwing out most of the bottle before transfiguring a new one to hold the last few drops. Then he turns to levitate my things into place, but I 'tut' him quickly and signal for him to use his hands. He seems highly begrudged to do this, but continues anyway. I feel a kind of pity for him, for letting a material thing hold him under such a high attachment. A smirk fights it's way onto my lips however as I watch him suffer.

Pansy comes to visit him later on, Ron and Hermione coming to see me. They babble with each other over projects, coddle me into eating just a little more. They talk about various gossip and schoolwork, glossing over the nastier parts of the day to save little old me from worrying and I just play along, sitting quietly and pretending to listen to them. I spend much more of my brain power watching Draco struggle along, writing words in the air to Pansy that he knows I can see. I see him cringe when she asks how he is keeping me in line and I nearly spit my smoked ham everywhere from laughing at the thought.

They all leave when Pomphrey bustles them out; their laughter, voices and scent all leaving a trail behind them that bothers me. Draco bothers me at all times, only not pissing my off when he is silent and obedient, as I will teach him to be. He'll be all mine, exactly as I want. I make him open the window for me; to let me take an extravagantly long shower first so there is no hot water left for him. I laugh at the look on his face when I pretend to knock over his precious bottle, throw it carelessly on his bed before going to sleep in my bed. I face his and stare with my now gaunt looking fierce green eyes, a dark smile playing on my lips as I think of all the things I could do to him. He pretends not to notice but he can feel my eyes on him and he cedes eventually, turning away, afraid all night that I might sneak up and choke him or worse.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I am enjoying this new feeling._

_I see the light side of all this dark._

_I can get used to this power, this evil._

_I'm starting to really enjoy this, and I don't think that there's any going back._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **As always, my last words are 'please review '

luv, mintapotter


	7. Watch It Fall

Thank you to: **brionyjae, oliver1234, aishteru, coolmarauders, The New Shinigami Hikari, yehudi13, ATadObsessive46, **&**Vespalady !**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 7 – …Watch It Fall…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_Potter." My words are shaky and slurred, but they are still being forced out. "I hate you."_

"_Harry. Call me Harry. And I hate you too Draco." He flashes that smile I am learning to fear and leaves me alone, hiding in the bathroom until this all blows over._

_I feel like screaming but don't want to give him the pleasure of hearing that._

_I retch again and decide that I won't ever let this happen again, let him have the upper hand._

_I can fight back, or I can give up._

_I've always been partial to the latter._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I cannot live like this.

I am choking on my own words, scared of my own actions, my emotions at the very surface and dying to break through.

Potter is yet to break one of my things, to hurt me, to follow through on any one threat. His power is still tangible however, held with things I don't doubt him able to do. He is a constant figure in the background, silent and speaking only when he wants me to stop something, or to do his bidding. I am a puppet, my strings growing thin and weary, just his side of snapping already from being tugged at so often.

I cannot even feel safe in this little cheerful space. When trying to sleep I am afraid of what he'll do to me when my guard is down. When I finish schoolwork, I look over my shoulder to make sure that he isn't sneaking up on me at the little desk. I can't leave my food unchecked for even a minute, every taste afterwards a dangerous one if I do.

I am in hell, and he is enjoying every moment of it.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper to him as I feel my nerves snapping, my patience worn down after only three days alone with him. We have been silent for hours already this morning, and the lack of sound keeps pressing in on me. I'm drowning in it.

"Do what? Fuck with your mind?" I nod, and he smiles.

I want to smack it off his face.

"Because I can." He turns away from me and stares out of the open picture window, gazing at the crystal clean emptiness of the lawns. "But you want an answer deeper than that don't you?" I have quickly learned that I anger him more when I talk out loud, so I nod again.

"Well, I make you do things for me because you deserve to have to do them. You have been a main part of most of the worst moments of my life and I will make you pay for them as often and as long as I feel necessary. You are spoiled and I enjoy taking that away from you because I am not." I want to scoff at this, but I hold my tongue this time.

"I have snapped Malfoy, even I can see that. Old Harry was kind and compassionate, he cared enough to the point of stupidity. New Harry takes what he wants, he screws with others instead of himself. I'm not bottling up anger and spite and rage with myself now, I'm directing it outwards. And the only fun thing to direct it at," he smiles again, a shiver shooting up my spine, "is you."

"You've become the same as …him." I feel nervous to use any substitute for his real name, and spit it out anyway . "You're like Voldemort. You are evil, or at least on the path to it." I feel like I've stepped too far out of line, but he doesn't leave his spot on the windowsill. He doesn't shudder at the name either, but that isn't anything new to me. He sits quietly rather than lashing out at me.

That scares me even more.

"That last comment really pissed me off, but I'll deal with that later. And no, I am not like Voldemort. He believes himself above all others, and thus disrespects everything. I think myself above most others, and below some, and respect them all anyway. Including you." He sits on the wide windowsill edge, poking his head out to see the steep drop below it.

"I know, I know. You think I don't respect you, but I do. I tell you the truth almost always, unless I really think that lies are to my advantage. Ask me a straight question and I'll answer it truthfully though, that's a promise. If I am going to embrace this whole dark, fucked up way I am still going to hold onto some morals and beliefs. Voldemort lost all those." He steps away from the ledge, leaving my mind writhing with new thoughts and insights into his mind.

"Are you… afraid of heights Malfoy?" My stomach drops like a stone instantly, the cold tone in which he says this chilling my bones.

"Yes. Why?" My hands tremble, my wand far across the room of no use to me now. He smiles and nods at the window, making his intentions very, very clear.

"Because, I told you that I would deal with that Voldemort comment later, and now is later from then."

I shake my head no at him, scared of breaking down crying or worse.

Begging.

"You don't even know what I want from you right now, and you're already scared shitless. You really are spineless, aren't you Malfoy?" I feel the chair I was seated on leave me, my body floating midair. My pulse has risen above what I could have ever thought possible, the blood rushing and sloshing through my veins, flooding me. I am floating toward to open window, nothing to grab onto to stop my passage.

"Let's see how you do…" I am too far away from the edges of the window to grab hold, but when just a finger grazes one side I can feel it buzz, numb from fear.

"You said you'd always answer my questions truthfully? Are you going to drop me?" I am officially floating out of the window, forcefully not looking down because I might lose all semblance of control left in my body.

"Now that you mention it… why not?" his hand is palm up as he watches me, then flips upside down in an instant.

I am dying.

Wind rushes by my body, my robes cracking in it and my hair flying madly. Gravity has been torn away from me, all of my insides trying to force their way up into my throat. The very ground I have taken for granted for so long has been ripped from me, my functions no longer part of my brains system.

I still have some dignity.

I bite my bottom lip until it breaks, only a second or two and close my eyes against the stones flying by. The whooshing has gone on too long, these few last seconds have been stretched way too far, and the ground can't possibly be any further away.

I stop.

I am not on the ground yet, I am not dead. I am floating. I am going back up. It is the exact same, perverse route that I was taking only a moment ago, only in reverse. The blood in my mouth is gone; I swallowed it. I am back and level with the window, with Potter's demented green eyes sparkling with pleasure. I am still floating above the ground, until he lets me go on my bed.

"Not a single scream. You would have taken all the fun out of that death you know. You would have died with dignity." My mouth tastes of pennies, my ears sting of cold. My face feels hot, the heart which has beated faithfully for me all my life is trying valiantly to rip through my ribs and I wish it would just explode and end all this. My nails have dug holes in my palms, little half moons of scarlet, my legs and arms still feel as though on permanent pins and needles.

"I said that I'd drop you Malfoy, I never said that I'd kill you. I'll tell you first if I ever plan to." He laughs, a full laugh after only one look into my face, into my eyes. I turn away from that face and retch over the edge of the bed, stopping only a second before retching again.

"Oh Merlin Malfoy, you have no manners now do you?" he tuts me and rushes out to the doorway, most likely about to bullshit some story into the air about me getting sick.

I turn and stare at the ceiling, my heartbeat still pulsing in my ears. I can feel hot tears run down the sides of my face. I am shocked with myself, crying again in only a week.

He has that power over me. He has no boundaries over what he will and won't do.

I am stuck here partially out of his will, partly out of my lack ofone for fighting him.

I am sobbing and shaking and generally losing all composure by the time Pomphrey rushes in, a concerned look on her face mirrored by the one on his.

His is fake and disgusting.

"Dear, it was probably something you ate and combined with the stress... I'll fetch some potions and be right back…" she rushes back out, leaving me with Potter again.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_Potter." My words are shaky and slurred, but they are still being forced out. "I hate you."_

"_Harry. Call me Harry. And I hate you too Draco." He flashes that smile I am learning to fear and leaves me alone, hiding in the bathroom until this all blows over._

_I feel like screaming but don't want to give him the pleasure of hearing that._

_I retch again and decide that I won't ever let this happen again, let him have the upper hand._

_I can fight back, or I can give up. _

_I've always been partial to the latter._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N:** Please review!

mintapotter


	8. See It All

**A/N: **Special thank you to: Raiyevern, brionyjae, ATadObsessive46, Suzie, Lanfear1, coolmarauders, &yehudi13!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 8… See It All...

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Is there something sick about that, knowing exactly how someone feels without their permission?_

_Something inside of me is saying that this will tell me things I don't want to hear, but the other part of me really, truly wants to know._

_The greedy part has the greater tendency to win._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After a quick nip up to the Infirmary to speak with Harry about visiting at supper and a bit of toast in the Great Hall I head off with Hermione towards the Headmaster's office. We each have a spare on Thursday mornings and this is one we will just have to spend working.

"Come on Hermione, we haven't got all day!"

For the first time in a long time I was the one chastising her not the other way around about dawdling.

"Maybe I could make it up these stairs if _somebody_ would help me with these books?" I grabbed a stack of three from her weighing roughly 20 pounds and continued up the stairs, she still grumbling after me.

"This is important Mione, carrying a few books upstairs is nothing compared to what's going on. It's been a week since Harry…" That shut her up permanently, right up until the Headmaster's office door.

"Saltwater Taffy." she spoke in a rushed voice, her breath still catching up with her after all those stairs. We both clamored onto the rotating staircase, letting it carry us up all the way to the official Headmaster's office.

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger right on time, right on time." Dumbledore took a seat in a thick chair near the corner of the room, a crystal cabinet that appeared to be empty resting behind him.

"'Lo Headmaster…if I…could just…" Hermione dropped her bookbag onto a nearby chair, causing it to creak audibly and sat near the cabinet. I followed her lead and let the Headmaster think in silence for a moment while catching my breath.

"So how's Harry doing exactly? How's this whole arrangement going?" I was the first to speak after the silence, apparently interrupting the Headmaster deep in thought.

"Oh well, I could tell you but it's much better for you to see for yourselves." He stood and opened the crystal cabinet with a flick of his hand, the clear doors swinging open gently and revealing a very full stack of shelves inside.

"Wow, that's quite the cabinet you have there Headmaster…" the inside shelves were themselves made of see through crystal and covered in boxes made of the same material. It seemed that this particular crystal only appeared see through but actually refracted the light so you saw nothing on the other side. Each box spewed out a thin strip of paper with a graph in a particular colour. They joined magically as the passed by the very bottom rack of the cabinet, making a multicolored graph that flowed continuously.

"This is a Sensory Cabinet, Mr Weasley, it monitors the emotions within the room. Each colour is a different emotion. Some are easy to recognize, like anger is red, love is pink and calm is blue. The others are more complex to memorize but I'm sure you'll have them all down very soon." Hermione grabbed the latest combined strip and gazed at it, calculating the highs and lows on the graph.

"Blue and violet are nearly trailing off the bottom and red, orange and brown are nearly flying off the charts. What are they?" Dumbledore shook his head sadly, walking away as he answered.

"Violet is caring, orange is possession and brown happens to be fear. The two of them… are hardly getting along." He walked away to his large desk and left Hermione and I to research the previous feet of graph.

"What happened here? Fear spiked into terror. And here too, and here… and anger's everywhere as well. Why aren't you checking them every single time?" I could tell that Hermione was angrier at these facts than anything but I already knew the answer to her questions.

"Then they'd be guarded all day 'Mione. Harry and Draco aren't on the best of terms; they're always loathing each other. It's obvious that those emotions are high. That's normal for them." She breathed deeply and continued to analyze the graphs.

"Some weird colours pop up too. There's a spike in the pink for a little while, but that can't be them…And some green is going on here to…"

Dumbledore cut her off. "Anyone who enters that room and is in love will set the sensors going Ms. Granger. Any visitor could do that." I shot her a look of surprise and she blushed so furiously that I thought she might light the graph on fire with her embarrassment. "And the green is envy. That could be over anything, I can't tell you what for…" the green was nearly aligned with the pink at that moment but I couldn't put a finger on what anyone was envious about.

"So Headmaster, if you don't check on them during the bursts of anger and such, then when will you?" He was returning to us now with a tiny spherical globe in his hands, made of the same light refracting crystal of the cabinet.

"We'll check on the scarlet, which happens to be pain. Also on mauve, which is sorrow. Rage is black, but so far that has been at a minimal setting. We'll check then." He handed me the globe, a very soft light emanating from its invisible depths.

"What is this?" Hermione took it from me, eyeing it from every angle before handing it back.

"That is a Sensory Globe, a condensed version of these graphs. It displays the top three emotions of the moment in rapid order through it's light. You can use it during visiting hours to see how the two of them are doing. Cheer them up when it's on sorrow, calm them down when they're angry." I scoffed, receiving a harsh nudge in the ribs from Mione and a raised brow from Dumbledore.

"Sorry sir, but 'they'? How and why would I want to cheer up Malfoy?" Even Hermione couldn't dispute this.

"Well, if Mr. Malfoy is mad then that can only negatively affect Harry in some way. If both of them feel better they will in turn be much friendlier to each other. They must stay together for who knows how long and the only way Draco can get his voice back is if he can convince Harry to subconsciously give it back. Until then," he shrugged as he returned to his desk, "they have to bear each other."

"Thank you Headmaster, this will really come in handy." Hermione gives him a warm smile as we leave; me studying the globe intently. It glows red, then orange and brown in quick succession.

"Mione, could any of these books possibly be about Sensory Globes?" She gives me a scathing look and walks faster.

"No, I didn't think that Dumbledore would have something so expensive to look after those two but now that I know…" she turns and heads for the Library, me lagging behind her and carrying another two books.

"Now that you know you'll return all of these and get out a few on it?" she nods and dumps her load on the front desk, me following suit.

"So… now we're spending our Thursday morning spare researching and memorizing what all the colours mean?" She nods as she brushes her fingers down the spines of the books, her search already beginning. "You are kidding me, right? What other one's should we know?"

She snorts and pulls 2 identical books down and walks back to our table quickly, opening one immediately.

"Honestly Ron, those two can have more emotions than the few Dumbledore told us! Remember, not everyone has the emotional span of a teaspoon! Everybody does and it's important to know them. So research it!" she leafs through the pages until she finds one in a continuous rainbow, every few millimeters labeled with a different emotion. I flip to the same page and groan audibly enough to receive a dirty look from Madam Pince.

"What exactly is the difference between 'Dozy' and 'Tired'? Why should I have to know all these?" I receive a much dirtier look from Hermione than Mme. Pince could ever muster so I begin to memorize anyway, hoping only to appease her.

Who knows, maybe this will help me later on. Maybe I can really see how Harry's feeling, finally tell where he's at in that mind of his. He can't close us off even if he tries now.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Is there something sick about that, knowing exactly how someone feels without his permission?_

_Something inside of me is saying that this will tell me things I don't want to hear, but the other part of me really, truly wants to know._

_The greedy part has the greater tendency to win._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Please review and as always love,

mintapotter


	9. You Can Tell Me

**A/N: **My comp. broke and I was dying to update! Thank you to: brionyjae, yehudi13, &LustAintLove for being so patient!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 9 …You Can Tell Me…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I slap him three times, just for the fun of it this time._

"_I never asked you to be witty."_

_This is going to be fun._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The day after I drop Draco from the window I wake up wondering how I can possibly top it. How can I taunt him or push him enough to fight back? When will he deem it too far, when might it get dangerous? I lay awake and think of these things before Madam Pomphrey bustles in with our breakfast trays, before Ron comes in after her just to say hi and that he and Hermione will be down for dinner.

"And Harry," he adds in an undertone, careful to make sure that Draco isn't listening, "it's not like speaking's a crime around here. No one's going to punish you for talking or anything; we're not cruel. Just a thought, we're always around to listen." He smiles and I smile back until he leaves.

I think if I were able to I'd have kissed him for making my plans so clear, so simple.

So perfect.

"Draco, darling, I'd like to implement a few new rules." He stops with a forkful of scrambled eggs nearly at his mouth and dumps them back onto his tray, pushing it away.

"This game of yours can only go so far Potter. We still have the sensors on you know." I contemplate this, but dismiss it.

"We'll fix that, you and I. Those will be taken care of because neither of us likes people intruding on our feelings, now do we? But that's against the point…" I walk over to the window and open it wide, the grounds below appearing not so green because of a lack of rain. Not a cloud floats in the sky but Draco is oblivious to the gorgeously hot weather; he's afraid of that damn window.

He hates it as much as he hates me.

"The point is that I'm making a rule or two for you to go by. One, you won't shower, eat, sleep or generally do anything before me in this room." He scoffs at this lightly, and I turn to his bedside table, taking the tiny glass bottle that contains the remnants of the cologne I smashed on our first day. His eyes light up and he turns to reach for it but I walk coolly back to the window and dangle it outside.

"Rule number two is important as well…you have to address me as Harry, at all times. If I hear you mutter the word 'Potter' one more time in that disgusting voice you use," I drop the cologne and I hear the rustle of blankets as he runs from the bed, but I catch it quickly, "things might not be too happy for you."

Draco stands near me now, eyeing the bottle and breathing deeply to regain a sense of self.

"And the third rule? I can tell you have another."

I sigh; tossing the bottle carelessly in the air and watching it create tiny rainbows from the prisms of light it creates on the floor. "Well, the third is that you will not speak until spoken to. Ever. And you managed to break that rule before I even made it so…" I catch the bottle one last time and throw it as hard as possible at Draco, hoping that it bounces off him and shatters or that it hits him somewhere that'll leave a mark. He catches it with a flick of his wrist, ruining all my fun.

I forgot he was a good Seeker.

"And what happens if I break that rule, Potter?" he's so incensed by me that he dares to test me, test my patience.

Too bad I lost patience along with most of my other noble feelings.

"You'll pay for it dearly." I close the gap between us and slap him as hard as I can across the face, watching him wince but not cry out, to rub it and let his eyes water but not cry.

"I believe I feel like taking a shower, perhaps you'll have some warm water left when I'm done." I smile at him and walk into the bathroom, not caring to look back over my shoulder to see if he was watching.

That was power.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Draco, speak. I can tell you've been thinking since this morning." I have enjoyed tormenting Draco since breakfast and straight through lunch, keeping him quiet until after the lunch trays had been cleared by Pomphrey herself.

"How are you fixing the sensors, Harry? Do you even have a plan?" I smirk at him but shake my head no.

"No, I haven't thought that far ahead. I'll manage it, just not yet. It's a… work in progress." Now it's his time to smirk but I'm not sure why.

"Why're you so happy about that?" laughter and yelling bubbles up from the grounds far below, students of the lunch break heading outdoors to savor the air, the freedom. I envied them but this wasn't the time to dwell on that.

"I have people I can pay to… fix the sensors as you put it. A few well placed Repetition Charms on that old box and we'll have smooth sailing. But it'll come at a price to you too." He's playing with a chunk of his hair, apparently counting the split ends rather than look in my face.

"What would this price be?" he's smiling again, something I wish I had been able to wipe off with a reason other than _'I don't like you being happy'_.

"I get to make my own rules. And let me tell you, let me tell you… they'll be enforced Harry." He says this so quietly that I wonder if he even spoke at all, but he continues afterwards with more gusto.

"One, I can charm you not to lie to me so that I know I'm getting the truth from you. Two, you never, ever call me by my first name. Under any circumstances unless I say so. And three-" I never heard what three was however because I had slapped Draco twice, once on each side. His delicate skin flushed red quickly and didn't fade; holding the imprints of my hands on his cheeks long after the echo of it had faded.

"Rule number three _Malfoy_, don't speak unless spoken to. And I'll call you Malfoy and speak the truth but I will not let you charm me for it and… I don't much care what three was so I won't abide by it anyway. Is that all? You can have the Sensors fucked with by tonight?"

He clenches his jaw tight and nods, his gray eyes red rimmed again from watering and not dropping a tear. I lift my hand and he flinches just the slightest but I pat his shoulder instead.

"Good then. What is it that you want to ask me and want me to tell the truth to?" He rubs his cheek and then looks up at me and into my eyes for the first time in days.

"Did you smash that bottle first day and why do you keep threatening to do it?" The tiny bottle of remnants still sits at his bedside, his eyes flashing to it for a moment.

"Yes, I did it. Your voice annoyed me enough to do it. And when I did and you were on the verge of tears," he opens his mouth to retort but has learned better and closes it quickly, "then I knew it was special to you and that it was one of few things you actually valued. I thought it was cruel but… I stopped caring shortly after that so it doesn't matter anymore now does it?"

He smiles at this, "Yes, it does. Why are suddenly so psycho?" I think of slapping him out of spite but that would be undermining our rules already and I relinquish the thought.

"I'm not _psycho_, I just saw the kind of power and sense and order I've been neglecting. It took a lot of breaking down to get me here but I made it in one piece and I'm stronger for it. Stronger Malfoy, not psycho."

He opens his mouth to speak but takes a single look at me and the window before closing it again.

Perfect.

"Malfoy, when Pansy comes to visit tonight at dinner tell her to get someone to mess the Sensors up and pay her if needed to get it done. I'm going to do a little work so keep quiet."

"Will do, Harry."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I slap him three times, just for the fun of it this time._

"_I never asked you to be witty."_

_This is going to be fun._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Please review and thank you to those who do!

mintapotter


	10. Sit and Cry

**A/N: **Big thank you to the loverly, loverly reviewers: **brionyjae,** **Twistedlife3000, ****MimiTaylor,** **Raiyevern,** **oliver1234,** **Dezra,** **coolmarauders,** **yehudi13,** **ChronoClockXVII,** **Megalicious Moony, **& **ATadObsessive46 **!

And to everyone, please enjoy...

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 10 … Sit and Cry…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Here I stand, Harry James Potter. _

_I look the same on the inside but now I'm as hollow as a person can get._

_My mind and soul have been gutted once again by the impervious Draco Malfoy and it's all because I let him._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Stop it."

I hiss this when I feel his eyes on my back while I study for a Potions test next week. I turn around and see that his cheeks are aflame with pink, his eyes averted to the bedspread rather than facing mine. I turn and unfold myself from the small desk chair, sitting at the end of his bed and watching as he scribbles randomly to keep from actually engaging a conversation with me.

"The sensors are absolutely turned off, right? They're on a loop?" He looks up but won't meet my eyes and nods. I smile and get up, cracking the bones in my back one by one as I stretch it out. I can tell he hates the sound of that and that's exactly why I always save cracking things for around him. Now he's not only scared, but angry. A wonderful combination, if you ask me.

"I notice you watching me you know. Just because you think you're so stealthy doesn't mean that you are. It just means that you are stupid, something I already know and you are yet to learn." He flexes his hand with the quill in it, biting his lip to keep from retorting.

"How about," I grab his collar and pull him off the bed in a flash, his eyes startled by the sudden motion and force, "how about you look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you?"

He shuts his stormy grays and reopens them slowly, not only to piss me off but also to control himself for the next few seconds. I debate whether or not I should really go for this, if it's worth it or not. If I have it in me to take it from him.

Why not? What does he really have left that's not already mine?

I push him to the wall suddenly, his neck snapping and skull rapping it hard. I move in and crush my lips against his, my hands pushing his bony shoulders deeper into the stone.

I start to think that he really, really doesn't like me at all when I get no response for a moment, then have the tables turned on me in an instant. He pushes off the wall and spins me so that my back is up against it now instead.

My shoulders blades are fighting with the rock behind me, my skull throbbing at the pain and my entire plan shredded before my very eyes. He actually took control and was still, kissing me back so possessively and forcefully that everything I had planned for after this moment no longer matters. I try to push him off and he steps back only a foot, a devilish smile playing on his lips.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing Malfoy?" I snarl the only retort my confused brain can come up with in the moment.

"Well, you tried to make me kiss you, and I rather skillfully kissed you back Harry. It's called making out, just so you know." He crosses his arms over his chest and raises a brow, no doubt wondering what I'm going to do about this.

"You… you know that that is distinctly against my rules Malfoy. That made me very, very angry."

He shrugs, daring to push my shoulders back into the wall and leaning against me quite menacingly.

"Well, I don't recall you ever making rules up about this at all Harry. And I'm just filling in the gaps you left. And my third rule is don't fight me on this. Ever."

My brain is so overloaded with thoughts and retorts and explanations that nothing really gets through coherently, so I stand there and let my bones get ground into the cold stone behind me.

"And just so you know, yes I've been watching you. I've been watching you for quite some time now. And the reason?" He leans in closer, so close that his tongue could touch the skin of my neck as he speaks. "Well, I haven't jacked off once since we arrived here and you are just about the only living thing in the vicinity that's worth fucking so I settled on you. Not exactly a fine specimen, but I suppose you'll do." I try to push him back, make him step away from me again but this time he won't budge.

"You're fucking sick Malfoy. I won't do a single thing and-" he kisses me mid sentence and pulls away quickly before I even get the chance to bite his roaming tongue off.

"Actually, forth rule Harry. You'll do anything physical, as I say, for as long as we have to live together in the godforsaken room. And as a first test of this rule," he smiles suggestively, "you're going to suck me off. Now."

I scoff and try to push him off me again, but he still won't move. I realize that we're nearly even in height and weight, and that he really might have the upper hand here. He's just as strong as me and he seems so hell bent on getting me to do this that there just might not be a way out.

"I'm waiting Harry." He steps away again, less than a foot's distance left between us.

"I…I don't want to." My voice has mysteriously died and I'm so angry with myself for this that I can feel the prickling of my eyes just beginning, the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat acting up.

"And I would care because… why?" his hand reaches up and I flinch a tiny bit at the thought of him slapping my face, but instead he grabs the top of my head and pushes me down to my knees. He keeps a hold of my hair even after my knees collide painfully with the floor.

I let my hands wander to his belt and slowly undo the clasp of his belt, stalling for enough time to think of a plan out of this. As much as I don't want this I would much rather do it than suffer whatever consequences he has up his sleeve. I think of how I was planning this to be what he would be doing to me as I release the button of his trousers, his hard-on already apparent through the fabric of his trousers and boxers.

I let the trousers fall the floor with a light thud and contemplate exactly what I am doing. If could bite him, I could push him and run to the bathroom or out the door…

"Thinking of getting out of this Harry? Bite me and suffer the consequences. And you and I both know that you can't just run out of this room, you have to get permission first. So, looks like you better get started or else I'll think of better things for you to do. And remember," he smiles, tugging hard at the handful of my hair he has twisted between his delicate fingers, "to cover those precious teeth of yours."

I breathe deep, close my eyes and stroke him through the fabric of the silk boxers. He moans only a tiny bit and the weirdest sensation hit's me in the stomach. This doesn't sicken me at all. I don't want to do this, I hate being forced but I'm not fighting back. I could throw up from being so disgusted or faint, scream, cry and plead.

I'm not going to though. I don't have a will to fight back, as odd as that could possibly be.

I pull the boxers down as well and begin the delicate process of sucking Malfoy off. This is the opposite end of the give/take scenario that I had planned out but I somehow don't mind this end of it so much. His hand is still tangled in my hair and he yanks at it as he pleases, making my eyes water and also making me keep a conscience effort from yelling out or biting down.

After a few minutes he begins to jerk my head back and forth more so than my throat is happy with. I gag but don't throw up, the feeling of being so dominated demeaning but not as bad as I imagine it should be. He groans once and then comes into my mouth, the liquid warm and most definitely something I don't want to swallow.

I consider getting up to go and spit it out in the bathroom but don't as soon as I think of how unhappy he'd be at that. I let myself fall back onto my heels, the thin, sweat soaked cotton of my shirt cold chilling me, channelling the cold of the stone walls into my skin. I close my eyes and swallow, following through with what I can tell he wanted from me in the end. I reopen them to him doing up the clasp of his belt, his trousers and boxers already up and buttoned.

"Bang up job there Harry. I'll be sure to do that again sometime soon."

He laughs at me and walks over silently to his bed, flopping onto it stomach down and opening some book or another and beginning to read it though, discarding me from his attention in seconds.

I get up and walk straight to the bathroom, locking the door shut behind me. I turn on the taps to as hot as they'll go with a flick of my hand, stripping down to nothing and throwing my clothes in a heap by the door. I get into the jet streams and let them scald my skin, the butterflies in my stomach not going away even after minutes of trying fervently to calm down.

I walk in circles to rid myself of this nervous energy, to stop all this thinking and reliving of…everything. It doesn't work though. I barely have enough time to get out of the shower to vomit in the toilet, flushing him and all that was left behind of him away with the water.

I get back into the shower and sit in the farthest corner of it, steam billowing thickly around me and condensing on the glass enough to wipe out any vision within the bathroom. The jets remind me too much of the sounds of water from the Gryffindor tower, the tiles might not be white but they feel the same against my back. I'm right back where I started, alone in a bathroom with Draco Malfoy invading my thoughts and making me feel like an insignificant pile of absolute nothing.

I sit there and let myself cry until there's nothing left in me, until the water has run cold and I'm shivering against the walls. I get up and towel off; a fresh set of pajamas folded neatly on the countertop for me magicked there by some house elf or another. I change into them and brush my teeth over and over again for as long as I can before my gums feel raw and sore and begin to bleed.

I look into the mirror and see the exact same reflection of myself from this morning, and the morning before that. I force a true smile, to see if I can still do it convincingly. Sad thing is that I can't even fake it well anymore, it looks as plastic and unnatural as it feels.

But for some even more unnatural reason I have the same green eyes staring back at me, the same razor straight white teeth and crazy black hair. Only now my eyes are a little more sunken, my front teeth are streaked with blood from my over zealous brushing and my hair is in bunches that remind me of exactly where Draco's hand grabbed it.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Here I stand, Harry James Potter. _

_I look the same on the inside but now I'm as hollow as a person can get._

_My mind and soul have been gutted once again by the impervious Draco Malfoy and it's all because I let him._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Please review!

Big luv,

mintapotter


	11. Start a War

**A/N: **Thank you to my lovely reviewers: **Raiyevern,** **brionyjae,** **Lanfear1,** **ravendreamer04,** **THE T0BEY-MEiSTER,** **ChronoClockXVII,** **yehudi13,** **coolmarauders, **&**ATadObsessive46**!

This chappie is a little shorter but the next one will be full length... enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 11 … Start a War…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_"Now you'll remember exactly who owns you and can do whatever the fuck they want to you anytime, anyplace. Now you know."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After my few moments of forced pleasure at Potter's expense everything seemed to return to normal. On Thursday he still told me what to do, where to go and when. I was still sniffing my meals before tasting them, still taking cold showers only after he had used all the hot water. I had thought that maybe my stunt would gain me some leverage.

I supposed wrong.

I waited all day for his plan of getting even, and when I got nothing for it I thought that he had simply ascertained that the rules were rules: day to day he was king but throw him anything sexual and it was my arena.

I thought he wasn't angry.

I thought he had gotten over it.

I thought wrong.

I could hear him slipping from under his sheets sometime after midnight and regretted ever getting the sensors put on a loop. If they had been on my fear would have outweighed any other emotion in the room, even Harry's psychotic rage.

"Oh Malfoy… what a name you have on you." He was whispering from across the room, hunched over his tiny work desk as if searching for something.

"And that spoiled streak in you has you thinking that you could get away with murder. But maybe you've noticed that when we're forced to live together I own you." He crawls towards me, a dark, silent figure with shining eyes and _that smile_. I sit straight up in bed and stare at the thing in his hand.

A very, very sharp quill.

"And Malfoy, I own only very few things that I hold dear. And I like the idea that they are mine because I simply don't have much. So I'm thinking that I'll make sure you remember exactly who owns you."

It's unearthly and demonic how much his eyes can glow in the dark. Normal eyes simply don't do that and I'm positive that normal teeth don't gleam like that when someone smiles.

He's no longer considered natural however. Not by any stretch.

"And when I thought of my very favorite part of you," he drains the last few drops of ink from the quill into my bedspread, almost directly above my leg, "All I could think was 'Well, the entire package." And so I thought I could mark the bottom or the top…or I could settle for something right in-between."

He's still smiling as he pulls down the sheets from around me, his eyes raking over my middle. I close my eyes and clench my teeth together to keep from vomiting right then and there. I can hear the grinding of my teeth and thank it for drowning out the buzzing that's filled my head.

"How about…" he whispers into my ear, a single finger pulling at the sideband of the waist of my trousers, "right here?"

"No." I whisper back as his cold finger traces a line from my belly button all the way over to my hip.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That was a rhetorical question."

He settles onto all fours around my left leg, his quill perched only inches from my peculiarly jutting hipbone.

"_H.P_ should be all anyone will ever have to see to know you're mine…" he mutters aloud but I know that it's simply to himself.

The second that quill breaks my flesh and scratches into the bone I know that we're in an entirely new arena now. Our life is governed by rules we have to simply follow to function.

Period.

"And there's the _H_ for you."

He sits back on my haunches and I have to swallow the heave my body makes at the sight of my hip. The pain, the burning and the scratching were a distant sort of agony with my eyes shut. But when the crimson kind of red starts to seep into my sheets and clothes and dries on my skin, that's the worst kind of pain.

To understand the meaning of the word _permanent_.

"We still have the dot left..." he whispers, keeping my eyes locked on his as he grinds a circle with his quill, widening it only after I refuse to blink and let my tears fall.

They fall anyway when I gasp, but now he's bored of the dot and wants to begin on his ever growing and intricate _P._

I'm crying when he's done, I'm sweating and feel like throwing up and I'm bleeding all over the bedsheets. I have been marked in a way I never thought possible by anyone other than Voldemort himself. I have been branded like cattle; a piece of meat.

I also have not budged an inch since he got into my bed.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_"Now you'll remember exactly who owns you and can do whatever the fuck they want to you anytime anyplace. Now you know."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and please continue!

luv,

mintapotter


	12. You Wonder Why?

**A/N: **Thank you's are at the bottom!

**STRONG WARNING**! **LEMON!** **Very heavy warning (consider this chapter a very dark M) Please read only at your own discretion.**

**If you choose to continue...**Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 12 … You Wonder Why…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I scream and scream and scream and no one he can hear me. I pick up the shards of glass and throw them against the wall until they shatter too, until they make me bleed like he is bleeding. I throw them out the window and hope someone steps on them and I scream until I'm hoarse, until my throat hurts and my eyes are streaming but I'm not crying._

_Malfoy's don't cry._

_No, I'm not crying, it's the rain on my face. I'm not screaming because only nothing can hear me. Only Harry can hear me now and he won't want to help._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I wake up and can hear Harry rustling papers at his desk, looking as innocent as could be. I half expected my blood, dried and rust coloured, caked under his nails, covering his hands from the tips to his wrists.

He's washed his hands.

My hip burns still, fresh scars forming his infamous intials. I can't help but to run my fingers over them, tracing the outlines.

I lost last night, I'll admit. I stand and grab a handful of fresh clothing, waiting tensely for him to tell me not to take a shower; that he wanted one first. But his words never come so I step right into the oasis of the bathroom, the place where the locked door can keep me safe from him, if only for a few minutes.

The water scalds my skin, and the cuts burn even worse. I was not going to settle for losing after a night of torture, however. Oh no, Harry had something completely different coming his way.

I waited an entire day before finally acting, the air smelling of ozone before a long awaited rain. I waited all that day too, until after Pomphrey's last check up on us. Harry sat at his desk, scribbling things and checking facts, utterly concentrated on all the work before him and sparing no concentration on me.

I am not so used to being ignored.

I come up behind him, he still ignoring my presence with all his will. I bend down behind him and lick a tiny spot right underneath his ear. He jumps at the unexpected feeling but doesn't move nor push me off. I kiss him on his jaw, then his neck and eventually, slowly, I move in front of him and capture that mouth of his. That spiteful tongue.

"Mmm, you taste good…" I murmur into Harry's neck and continue to kiss it, careful not to leave any marks that'll be visible to anyone but he and I. He's still sitting in the little desk chair so I straddle him and dig deeper, into his mouth and anywhere where his skin is visible. He's responsive to this, his hands scared of holding me closer and still straining against my back. I like that about him, how he's so unsure of himself whenever I take over.

It's invigorating and I crave more.

"Come on…" I pull him up and off the chair by his tie, guiding and turning him so that he lies on my bed instead.

"Draco I-" He stops, his eyes wide. He just broke a golden rule and he absolutely knows it.

"Excuse me? Draco? Since when were you allowed to use my first name Harry?" He shakes his head, wishing to take it back but I'm not about to let him apologize. I'm going to take that apology from him with force.

"Well, we'll see to that after, won't we?"

I move on top of him, my knees keeping me only inches off of him, my elbows giving me control of how much of our bodies will touch. I support myself on one arm and kiss him harder, deeper, goading his tongue into even daring to try to fight against my invading one. My other hand wanders down and strokes him through his trousers, raising a hard-on faster than I ever imagined he could get.

"Come off with it…"

I kneel above him on my knees, ripping my tie off and busting a few buttons in my effort to get my shirt off quickly enough to recreate the contact between our bodies. His hands are shaking just enough to make it hard for him to undo his buttons so he goes for the clasp of my belt and the single button and zipper of my trousers and pulls them and everything under them down and off in one motion. I can tell how scared he still is over breaking that small rule, over saying those two syllables.

_Dra-co_. Who would have thought that word would one day scare him so much?

"I meant come off with these…" I undo the belt on his trousers and pull both them and his boxers down in one smooth motion before remounting on top of him, both of us free of nearly all clothing. His shirt is the only barrier between us now so I rip it as hard as I can, sending tiny white buttons flying like grains of rice at a wedding. I smile at that thought, like this is a really fucked up excuse in someone's mind for what's supposed to be savored on a wedding night.

Now my full attention is on him, his body and all the wonderful ways I can use it to my own pleasure. After a very short while the rubbing and closeness of it all builds until it isn't enough. I can't make do with being close to him; I need to get closer to that ultimate goal. I need to be in him, not just on him.

"Now Harry, be a good boy and open up." He looks confused, like he's hoping that I want him to just suck me off but I interpret the message with him with my fingers, grasping one of his legs at the thigh and pulling it apart.

"Malfoy, I don't know…" he's still so scared and yet fighting the urge to give up. All that goddamn Gryffindor pride and courage won't fucking go away and it's more than starting to irritate me.

"Don't know what? When to shut up? How about-" I'm hovering above him on my knees and hands when he gives his last effort and pushes me off of him. I fly off the bed and knock my head against the wall and he scrambles to the other side pulling the bedspread with him, trying to get away from me before he makes a more grand escape.

I'm so fucking infuriated at this that I lunge back at him and grab his ankle as he tries to pull it off of the bed so he can run. He goes down in a tremendous heap, a cracking sound of bone and stone between his knees and palms.

"FUCK!" His leg twisted as I continue my grip on his ankle. I let my fingernails dig deep into the skin until he winces and cries out an adequate amount to tell me that it's enough. He rolls onto his back, his palms bloody and scraped and his knees doubly bad.

"I'll fucking teach you to not…cross…me!" He gets up and I grab his shoulders, pushing him onto the windowsill that he dropped me from not so very long ago.

"You just keep making mistakes Harry and I just keep having to teach you to stop it." I grab a thick handful of his black hair and push his head down, making him bend completely over and out of the window. His hands grab the edge on either side of his body and they dig deeper when I jerk his head back up at an angle to make him wince.

"Remember this window? You taught me all about power at this window." I release his hair and he relaxes for a moment, just long enough for me to force my cock into him. He gasps for air, the pain he no doubt is feeling equal to the pleasure the tight folds give me.

"Now let me give you a tiny taste of your own medicine." I thrust into him again and I know that he's fighting the urge to cry out with all that Gryffindor pride he has welled up in his body. The grounds are empty because thick grey clouds swirl overhead, the light coming through them thin and wavering. A bolt of lightning blinds me for a millisecond, the thunder following it deafening. The smell of oncoming rain seams so cleansing and at the same time I breath in the musky scent of Harry's sweat and my own mingling in the air.

I drive into him deep and hard as I can, pulling myself farther and farther in by gripping the windowsill only centimeters from his own straining hands. His resolve in itself is not enough and his mouth finally breaks open, a gasp and low groan the only sounds coming out.

I lean over until my entire front covers his back, his vertebrae and shoulder bones stark reminders of the fragile thing under me. His skin is warm and slick beneath me, the very bones that anchor him together moving with my rhythm. I don't hold back though, rather push harder and faster, gripping his shoulders for extra force. Tiny fingerprint bruises will raise there, later. I eventually lose myself in it too, my breathing harsh and ragged and punctuated with words and gasps that are incoherent to my own ears. He cries out a little louder, a little more painfully every time now but there's no way I'm about to stop something this good, this powerful. I let one hand go of his shoulder and watch the marks fade from red to white and reach down underneath both of us, jerking him off in time with my pumping.

"Draco, please…"it sounds like a desperate plea for more and at the same time a begging for me to stop but I'm so far into it by not that stopping is not an option. A little part of mind that governs control has faded into nothing, the groans and moans I'm emitting far beyond what I thought was possible for my mouth to make. He so tight and somehow wet that I'm beyond the point of caring about anything but myself.

I let my nails dig into his sweaty flesh as I come, leaving his own erection be in the need for my hands to really grip down into something real. I rest my face on his shoulder, turning to watch a tear fall from his black eyelashes and then another and another drip down onto his cheeks and roll off down to the parched earth far below. It seems like those tears spur the clouds into releasing their own, rain falling slowly after his tears and now with no abandon. The water drips down onto his head and mingles in his hair. I pull out and stumble back from him, watching him slump from the windowsill and onto the floor.

"For being such a great fuck, you'll get an exceptionally great suck." My smile must be crooked, half mocking, and kneel before his slumped frame. His erection is waning from lack of attention and his entire body seems about to keel over at any time, but I go down on him anyway and suck, lick and stroke some life back into him. It doesn't take much to make him come and I swallow as his moans subside. Scarlet something, I know it's blood is streaked into his skin, but I try not to notice that he's bleeding, that I caused that ripping. It's somehow hard not to care.

"Now I have a little of you in me and you've got a little of me in you. Would you look at that, we're connected now whether or not you like it." I whisper in his ear, biting the lobe just because I can at times like this. He scoffs lightly and then lets it turn to something else.

He chokes, a sob trying to escape and not allowed to make it past the surface. He curls into a ball and holds his bloody knees close, rain coming down in torrents behind the windowframe, wind sending waves of it's spray into the room and over us. It was like the weather was trying to wash away all the dirt we've made.

I've made.

"I… I'm going to go…" he chokes this out and uncurls slowly, painfully. I know that I tore him from the inside out, that he's bleeding and in all this pain because I did this. I throw his pants at him and quickly put on my own pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. I think of turning and apologizing or something but that would undermine every ounce of power I've gained over him.

"Wash or something Harry. You look like shit."

He closes his eyes but two fat tears leak through anyway. He has the thin black pants on but they only accentuate everything I've done to mar him. There are streaks of scarlet around his eyes now because the palms of his hands are still bleeding and the blood has dried around them. The skin of his entire body seems stretched thin, waxy, his face pallid but his eyes are red rimmed from holding in the tears and then letting them loose. He walks jerkily towards the bathroom and closes the door behind him slowly, leaving a trail of sadness and pain in his wake.

"Couldn't you at least be angry at me? Can't you ever just fight back or something?" I whisper at his back as the door shuts. I turn and lie down on my own bed, pulling the covers up and over my head try and shut out the thunder and the patter of the rain.

"Mr. Malfoy? Would you like the windows closed?" Madam Pomphrey hovers in the doorway only moments after Harry has shut the bathroom door.

"No, I like them open." I really do try to talk but no sound comes out. She shrugs at this apparent show of insanity and leaves, the door shutting securely behind her.

"Why do you do this to me Harry? Why do have to make me care fucking at all? Why can't I just get my pleasure out of something without all this guilt?" I try to scream but Pomphrey must still be in enough distance to hear me and nothing comes out. I get up and try to scream into the rain but no sound will pass my lips. I grab the remnants of the cologne he smashed that very first day and throw it at the wall; the sound of it shattering drowned out by thunder.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I scream and scream and scream and no one he can hear me. I pick up the shards of glass and throw them against the wall until they shatter too, until they make me bleed like he is bleeding. I throw them out the window and hope someone steps on them and I scream until I'm hoarse, until my throat hurts and my eyes are streaming but I'm not crying._

_Malfoy's don't cry._

_No, I'm not crying, it's the rain on my face. I'm not screaming because only nothing can hear me. Only Harry can hear me now and he won't want to help._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you to: **MimiTaylor,** **coolmarauders,** **Raiyevern, **&**brionyjae **! You guys kick a whole lotta ass for reviewing, and please keep it up!

luv (to all my new and old reviewers (that could be you!)),

mintapotter


	13. Rather Die

**Title: **Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N:** Review thanks are at the end! (The names of the chaps are no longer from 'A Rush of Blood to the Head', I'll have a new song by next chapter...)

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter13 - …Rather Die…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I would rather die than… live the way I am now._

…

_I would rather die than… continue as I am._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Up, up! Both of you overslept today, don't you remember that your year has a special class today? And look at the state of you two…" Pomphrey's blurry form is bustling at the door as I wake, her skirts swishing over the stones as she lays Malfoy's and my breakfast trays down on our respective desks.

"I expect the both of you at the door and prepared with quills and ink in 45 minutes." She gives Malfoy a stern glare, flashes it over to me and then leaves again, the door closing behind her flurry of activity.

"Harry…I'll shower since you did last night." Malfoy is nearly at the bathroom door when I realize I have the upper hand in this situation and am able to form coherent words.

"Two wrongs don't make a right Malfoy and I'm not soon to forget the mistakes you've made."

He stops dead in the doorway, his hand poised on the doorknob but not letting himself just walk away from it. I notice that his palms and fingertips are cut up still from the shards of that cologne bottle, but I won't ask why he did that. I don't need to.

"Your logic only works sometimes Harry, not always. Two negatives make a positive, haven't you learned your arithmetic?" he doesn't even seem to fear me anymore. He lets the sarcasm drip from these words and only get angrier with every one.

"Still Malfoy, you know what you did was wrong and eventually that will come back and bite you in the ass. Even you'll grow a conscience one day." He snorts and turns to finally face me. He looks haggard; the light streaming through the rain covered windowpanes making his pale skin appear pallid and gray.

"It's not as though you've been lovely to live with either Harry. Consider it a taste of your own medicine. Fuck, it's not like I'm the only one at fault here." I shake my head at him, the memories of everything building up and overlapping.

"It's still not right…none of it. Your only here because you fucked with my mind so much that it turned on you when even my noble side couldn't do that." He laughs again, a harsh grating sound in my ears.

"I suppose that's why I won, huh? You're not too noble to order me around and make me fear you for days, but somehow you are too noble to fuck me literally. Irony's a bitch, huh?" he shrugs and enters the bathroom, the sounds of the taps being turned on only seconds later.

I pull my covers back up to keep off the draft. Last night had been a living nightmare, a hell of our own creation. I had come back into the room to find glass smashed near one wall, the large pieces smudged with blood that wasn't mine. Malfoy was fast asleep in his bed, his hands soaking the sheets scarlet and dried trails of salt from tears he'd already shed. I swept my hand over the glass and let magic carry it to fall into a bin in the corner, not caring who found it or when.

I didn't care much for anything by then.

The windows were still open, rain water sloshing in from the sill and washing away all that was there, so I left them that way. I lay down in a clean set of pajamas yet again, my teeth and gums red raw and my body aching at every movement. The wind had given me the chills by morning but I didn't much care. I figured that my soul had mostly died already and my brain was definitely on that path so if my body gave out there wasn't much left to lose.

I snapped back to the present with the boom of thunder from outside, the kind that was so loud it shook the very air around you. I took this as a chance to get ready; to be prepared to leave just as Pomphrey had said. I threw on a clean pair of boxers, white button up with tie, slacks and a robe. I couldn't remember the last time I had been in class, really gone and stayed the whole time. It took me all of three minutes to remember that fateful 'Care of Magical Creatures' class where all this had started.

I stare hard at the food on my tray until half the glass of orange juice evaporates and two of the pieces of toast burn to a measly pile of ash. The air now mingles with the scent of orange and smoke but a gust of wind clears that soon enough and all was good with me. At least for a little while.

I think of how Hermione and Ron are bound to seek me out in the class, how Malfoy will leave and sit with the Slytherins. I have no energy to even think of this, all of it being put into not screaming or breaking down completely in the Great Hall during this 'test'. I take much too long to remember that it's a Sunday, only a Sunday. Tomorrow I'm supposed to get back into the regular stream but I decide to save the worrying for that for later.

"Ready then?" Malfoy emerged from the bathroom in a billow of steam, perfectly dressed with still damp hair looking as in place as it possibly could. I still didn't understand how he as so well kept, even when his mind wasn't thinking clearly but I didn't care enough to ask. Besides, it would only inflate his head more.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"So, today's class is only a very short questionnaire to be filled out for a school wide statistics analization. The Ministry and our Headmaster will be comparing these marks to other schools to decide which programs should be implemented in each one." Before McGonagall was even finished her short speech there were groans all around the class. Every student in the sixth year was present and when that many students groan simultaneously, the sound gets the message across quite easily.

"I didn't study for this at all, did you?" Ron whispered beside me. I graced him with the least creepy smile I could conjure and shook my head no.

"Good because Hermione went ballistic and nearly bit my head off for not studying. She won't yell at me as much if she knows that you didn't study either." I shrugged, Hermione clearly still freaking out over the entire thing; her hair knotted fastly around one finger as she struggled to read two books simultaneously.

"No need to groan, this isn't an academic test and it will not be marked." A collective sigh echoed through the hall, followed by light laughter at how many students really hadn't thought of this test all week. "In fact, each one is completely confidential so as to make it easier for you to all answer truthfully. Use your own ink and words and they will all transfigure to an identical script, so we cannot tell which of you answers what. They are on…relationships." With the sour face the Professor managed to say this word nearly everyone had a good sigh and a laugh, most of the boys in the room raising an eyebrow at the thought.

"So this is a quiz on… girlfriends and boyfriends?" someone called from the back of the room. Catcalls followed this comment but were silenced very quickly with a quick glare from McGonagall.

"Basically, but it includes much more than that. You will all begin with one question and depending on your answer many more will appear. As soon as I say 'begin' the parchment will appear on your desks and from that moment on there will be absolutely no talking. Use your own quill and ink and please hand them in at the front when they are completed and then leave the classroom." She gave everyone a moment before announcing, "Begin."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Harry's Questionnaire

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Gender?** Male

**Are you in a relationship?** Yes

**Is this relationship with a boy/girl/other species (ex: Giant)?** Boy

**How long have you been in this relationship?** 2 weeks

**Is this a sexual relationship? **Yes

**Is there a mutual friendship/feeling about this relationship?** No

**Is there a battle of power over different aspects in this relationship?** Yes

**Are there any incidences of violence/abuse in this relationship? **Yes

**Are you on the **a)** abuser side **b)** abused side **c)** both at different times?** C

**Have you told a friend and/or someone that you trust about these incidences?** No

**If there were a course/booklet/resource in your school to help you with the subject, would it prove useful? **No

**Thank you for completing the relationship part of the questionnaire. Please finish the following sentence with a simple paragraph or sentence:**

**I would rather die than…** live the way I am now. 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Draco's Questionnaire

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Gender?** Male

**Are you in a relationship?** Yes

**Is this relationship with a boy/girl/other species (ex: Giant)?** Boy

**How long have you been in this relationship?** Very short period of time

**Is this a sexual relationship? **Regretfully so.

**Is there a mutual friendship/feeling about this relationship?** Not an established one.

**Is there a battle of power over different aspects in this relationship?** Constantly.

**Are there any incidences of violence/abuse in this relationship? **Yes.

**Are you on the **a) **abuser side **b) **abused side **c)** both at different times?** C

**Have you told a friend and/or someone that you trust about these incidences?** No no NO NO NO NO NO.

**If there were a course/booklet/resource in your school to help you with the subject, would it prove useful? **Answer written above.

**Thank you for completing the relationship part of the questionnaire. Please finish the following sentence with a simple paragraph or sentence:**

**I would rather die than…** continue as I am. 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I watched Draco leave early; folding his questionnaire and slipping it into a box at the front before he left the room, not once glancing at me. I hand mine in as soon as he leaves, hoping that he won't ask me what I wrote.

I am amazed at myself for even answering the questions truthfully, even if it is confidential.

By the time I am back in our room he is already sitting on his bed, waiting and watching me enter.

"Malfoy."

He picks at a nail, the tone in my voice scaring him a little.

Good.

"You're in for it later, you know that right?"

He nods, a small sign that he's even listening. He won't even look up now from behind the sheet of blonde hair.

"Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but karma or whatever will come back and get you for everything."

He mumbles something I cannot hear, and I wave him off.

"Sorry fuck-up, can't hear you. Speak up."

"I'm sorry." he whispers, a tear falling from behind his curtain of hair. I can feel something inside me stir, but I think it's just the last vestiges of my soul dying.

_There_, I think. _They're gone_.

"Sorry doesn't cut it."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you, oh beautiful reviewing loverlies! **Lanfear1,** **Raiyevern,** **coolmarauders,** **txcalbud,** **bernice,** **yehudi13,** **brionyjae,** **MimiTaylor,** **Vespalady,** **Megalicious Moony,** **too lazy to log in, **&**ATadObsessive46 **! You guys rock...socks...

Anyway, please continue the great reviews!

luv, mintapotter


	14. Hard to Say What's Going On

**A/N: **The new chappie names are going to from the song Cannonball although THIS STILL ISN'T A SONGFIC! The lyris are only for the chapter names, not the plot!

Anyway, thank you to...: **Nfinity Nite Monaghan,** **Lanfear1,** **Megalicious Moony,** **Vespalady,** **brionyjae,** **ChronoClockXVII,** & **My little Blue Shadow. **Got to warn all of you, this is not a happy story, and chapters to come will be just as harsh as the chapters before, but you already knew that...

Anyway, enough of my blathering.

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 14…Hard to Say What's Going On

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_No more talking or fighting, no more crying or making others cry. _

_No more Malfoy fucking me, no more me fucking Malfoy's mind over. _

_No more pulling Hermione and Ron's feelings through the mud, no more fucking up the sensors, no more lying to everybody._

_Just._

_No._

_More._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Harry, you need to get up. Class is in half an hour." Malfoy jabs my shoulder with something but I won't move; not for him.

"Oh, come off it. We've got to go soon so get up." He's sitting on his own bed, tying his shoes. They're so black and shiny that I wonder where he got the time to shine them, but I don't ask.

I don't feel like thinking at all.

"Harry, I'm not kidding. Get. Up. That's what normal people do on Mondays. " He goes to rip the blanket from my bed off but I grip it tighter around my neck and pray that he won't keep trying.

"I…I can't do it. Not today, not tomorrow…" I turn over so that I won't have to see that face, that smile. He comes around to the other side of my bed anyway; his face illuminated for a spilt second by a blast of lightning before the roll of thunder can be heard from far away.

"Listen, if you won't get up then Pomphrey and Dumbledore and all your stupid friends will worry and we don't want that. Then they'll go into what's gone on in here for the past few weeks and… neither of us wants that."

It's weird that even when I know that Malfoy is only looking out for himself, it still sounds like he cares about me. I close my eyes and try so, so hard to keep from crying like a pathetic excuse for a person but I fail.

Again.

"Oh, Harry…" I feel my breath hitch at how he says my name, how he says it with some amount of tenderness. "I'm sorry but I can't fix this right now. I need you to just pretend to be better. I am. Look at me, I look fine to everyone else. Can't you do it anymore? Can't you just pretend?" I shake my head no and sniff, taking short breaths to keep from sobbing.

"I don't think I can anymore either but I have to anyway. I'll try." I feel his fingertips brushing hair off of my forehead but by the time I go to open my eyes and see him he's gone, the door closed behind him soundlessly.

I make myself get out of bed and get into the bathroom, my sanctuary.

I sit with my back to the tiles, watching tears drip onto the floor and absorb into the grout between the tiles. I think that my very tears will be imbedded into the bathroom, that they'll always be here. I'll always be here, crying, alone.

Not for long though. I'm never alone for very long.

"Harry? Pomphrey said she let you sleep in and wanted me to bring you breakfast. Are you out of the shower yet? I came to meet you before Care of…"

Ron is at the door with my tray, his crazy red hair and poignant freckles a sight for sore eyes. I don't have to tell him to come in, I don't even have to speak. He puts down the tray in the doorway and hesitantly sits beside me.

"Harry, you know I wish you would stop doing this. It kills me to find you alone in a bathroom just crying like this. Don't you know that you can come and find me, that I'm around?"

I try really; really hard to stop crying so that I can respond to him but I find that I truly can't even with all my will. His arm is around my shoulder and I find myself crying into him, so familiar by now.

"What if I just keep messing up and I just need everyone around me to fix me back up? What if the only way I'll ever make it is with someone else to take care of me? What if I keeping pushing away all those people I need? What if I messed it all up, what if I messed it all…"

Ron looks me square in the eyes with amazement, and it's all I can do to wonder why he's looking at me like that. Then I realize that I haven't spoken a word to the outside world, to anyone but Malfoy for more than two weeks straight. I realize that everything I was just thinking just spilled over and I said it aloud. I realize that my eyes are still crying when my emotions have stopped working.

"Harry… do you really think that? You don't mess everything up, everything around you just seems that way right now. And everybody needs somebody, it's the way people are mate. We rely on each other, we need each other. You've always got Mione and me and all the other people out there that you just won't let in. You can't do this alone Harry and no-one ever expected you to." Now Ron has tears in his eyes, something I can't recall him doing in a very long time and somewhere deep down I feel terrible for doing this to him.

He's one of the people out there who need me and I haven't been there for him at all. When he needed me all this time I've been too selfish to notice, to care. I made him take care of me when he was the one who deserved to be talked to, to be given the time of day every so often.

"I'm sorry Ron, for all this. I'll get better, promise, I'll be a better friend…" he laughs at this, his head hitting the tile wall a bit as it bobs back.

"No Harry, I need for you to get better in your own time before I expect any apologies. You are truly the most… I can't even find the word for it. No one expects you to be all better, to just get miraculously happy and fine all of a sudden. I sure don't."

"I wish I could…" he swats my shoulder at this comment.

"Don't even go there. You'll be better in time Harry, give yourself a little more. And what started all this?" I gave him a questioning look and he thankfully expands. "What started you talking again, what started you not coming to class? And what the hell happened to your hands?"

I've been pushing the cuticles of them down without noticing and finally notice that my palms are still scratched, red and scabbed.

"I fell. That's the condensed version of what this whole… talking and sobbing like an idiot came from." Ron shakes his head, his ears turning red with anger.

"It was Malfoy, wasn't it? He hurt you and got away with it, he probably did loads in here that Dumbledore didn't notice on those charts and-"

"The charts are faulty. They're on a loop, a repeat." Ron stops dead in his rant and eyes me like I've gone crazy.

"Harry, how did you…" I stand and to leave the bathroom, the very air in it feeling too humid and making me more claustrophobic by the moment.

"It was one of Malfoy's friends, they did it for him. I haven't hurt myself once though, honest." Ron shakes his head and paces a bit, angry maybe at me, and maybe at Malfoy. I push out my forearms to reveal the white scabs formed there, to prove that I haven't cut myself once but that's not what he wants to see right now.

"Look, these are all the old scars! That's from the Basilisk and that's from Wormtail in my fourth year… I haven't done anything Ron, I promise." He just shakes his head at me anyway, not caring for all the old scars marring my arms.

"Why Harry? We were trying to keep an eye on you, to make sure that this couldn't get out of hand. Obviously Malfoy hurt you, look at you and those hands," I try and hide them behind my back by they hurt to hold together so I give up, "why would you let that happen Harry? Why wouldn't you let us try and help you for once? Just once?"

"Ron, you can't understand… all the feelings in my head shouldn't be out there on some slip of paper for all to see. Mine are all mixed up with Malfoy's and we both know that sometimes we don't want everyone to know what we're feeling. Sometimes you feel things and don't want to tell the world. Everytime I stub my toe does that really need to be an alert for everybody else? Can't I just be angry and sad and get hurt and take it all by myself like everybody else?" Ron's eyes are watering again, his anger still tinged with sad.

I wish that I wouldn't make him cry so.

"Harry, you can't do it all by yourself. Maybe that night in the showers wasn't a wake up call enough but it's obvious that you can't do this alone. You can't even be trusted alone, let be with Malfoy around! Just look what happened when you two thought that you'd deal with this yourselves! Tell me that since you fucked with the sensors you two have gotten along peachy keen and not needed help, not even once?"

I want to be able to say that we really do get along fine, that nothing has happened but that is such a blatant lie that I won't even try. I'm silent and that's more than an answer for Ron.

"I knew it! Something bad happened Harry, probably more than just once. And I don't expect you to tell me because you hardly tell me anything anymore. And I don't expect you to run to Dumbledore or Hermione either because neither of them seems exceptionally important to you right now." His eyes are still watery and red; his voice tight but it's the words that hurt me the most.

Ron, my Ron that was always there for me isn't mine anymore. I fucked up his friendship so bad that even he's giving up on me.

"Harry, whenever you feel the need to be honest with me, I mean completely honest, just know that I'm still around. You know where to find me." With that he turns and leaves and it isn't until that door is closed behind him that I realize that was my golden opportunity to say something, to let it all out. I fucked up again and I finally give up.

I crawl into bed, I wipe away the tears on my face and breathe deep until all I can hear are my steady breaths. I don't want to think or worry, to feel angry or sad or even pain.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_No more talking or fighting, no more crying or making others cry. _

_No more Malfoy fucking me, no more me fucking Malfoy's mind over. _

_No more pulling Hermione and Ron's feelings through the mud, no more fucking up the sensors, no more lying to everybody._

_Just._

_No._

_More._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Oh, please keep reviewing!

luv, mintapotter


	15. Can't See What's Going On

**A/N: **Thank you for your patience! **ravendreamer04,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan,** **koolmint26, ****coolmarauders,** **mooneasterbunny,** **LustAintLove, ****Megalicious Moony,** **chronoclockxvii, ****ATadObsessive46,** **MimiTaylor, **&**brionyjae**! You guys are the reason I write, so please enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 15…Can't See What's Going On...

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Harry shuts the door before anyone can try and change his mind; anyone can try and persuade us._

_"We need a talk Draco, really talk about everything. All...this."_

"_Ok," I whisper, my voice lost with the crowd and now not so easily found, "let's talk."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Malfoy, you're needed in the Infirmary immediately please. Bring all your books and things with you, I don't think the Headmaster expects you to come back."

I silently thank the gods for getting me out of the dreadful classroom I am in. All class my mates have been staring at me strangely, even McGonagall has given me awkward sideways looks. It's as though they are all in on some brand new, amazing joke and aren't including me in the fun. Normally giggling girls are somber and subdued, rustling pages of the _Daily Prophet _circulating in the room getting snatched by the Professors all morning, even on the break between breakfast and class.

A great number of _'ooh's'_ are emitted around the classroom when I leave but I ignore them with dignity and don't utter a single retort. Well, I would if I could that is but my voice has still deserted me and doesn't seem to plan to come back anytime soon.

I suppose I could bring that up with Harry, but on second thought he seems in no place to be messed with right now.

Today's Care of Magical Creatures class was brought inside because of the great amounts of rain, lightening and thunder all around the castle. After such an unusual drought for the weeks before the downpour is simply overflowing everything in sight and has forced us all into the Transfiguration classroom with McGonagall for an impromptu class.

As I grab my bag to leave I catch a glimpse of the messenger that came in to tell the Professor that I was needed elsewhere. That snippet of red hair is all I need to possibly make this morning worse.

Weasley.

"Malfoy…" he growls as I leave the classroom, his long, gangly legs easily keeping up with my stride down the deserted corridor.

"Malfoy… I know you messed with Harry and this is one fucking time too many. I know about the sensors on a loop, I know it all."

My mind.

Freezes.

How can he know it all? Was Harry so _stupid_ as to tell Weasley everything? To reveal it all? I'll be lynched, suspended, sent to Azkaban, disowned, publicly humiliated…

"I still don't know what it is you did to him to do… this but if I ever find out I swear I will kill you. He doesn't deserve this you know, he didn't ask to be kept with you! The only reason you're together is because your snotty family would have a fit over you losing your voice because of him. If they didn't see drastic action then they'd sue or try and fire someone…"

I breathe deeply and try to calm myself down that Weasley still doesn't know what happened in my chambers but he's only warming up.

"Oh wait, it'd only be your Mother who'd sue right? Your poor Daddy is locked up in Azkaban… oh wait, I'm wrong about that too, aren't I? He's not there anymore at all…" I shoot him a look of deepest loathing, hating him for following me, for scaring me, for pretending to know about something I don't.

Of course my Father is in Azkaban, where else could he be? Weasley's eyes are red and puffy from some obvious weeping but the manical glee spreading across his face dims the sorrow there. It's scary to see him so happy over this but I don't know why he has a reason to be, other then he's gone completely mad.

"Oh, you're kidding me, you didn't know? How is this possible, don't you read the papers? That's all we've been talking about all morning. We thought you were being stoic, but you were only ignorant!"

I try to say '_spit it out.'_ but appear to simply be moving my lips and forget trying to speak in general. The safety of the Infirmary doors is up ahead, only meters away now.

"Your dearest Daddy died in Azkaban yesterday. Went mad and strangled himself with a bed sheet."

My legs stop walking.

I hear my bag of books thud on the floor, feel the spines of the books inside cracking from the drop and impact. The blood around my brain and heart seems to freeze, slush spreading through my veins and filling me with a deep cold. I can feel my throat tightening, the thoughts forming and the only answer my brain can spit out dying on my lips.

_'No.'_

"Gotcha." Weasley smiles and I can breathe again, the world around me slowly gaining back the colour and sound and smells and sights it just lost. I bend down to grab my books, wishing I wasn't blushing from embarrassment and hoping I can get away with punching him in the face when I stand up.

"I lied. It was this morning."

He smiles again and walks away, leaving me in front of the closed Infirmary doors by myself. My bones collapse I think, I can feel them turn to jelly. That congealed blood in my veins begins to pump again, ice spreading through me and making me shut down.

Pomphrey comes out sometime after this and fusses. I end up in the room, Harry in his bed and I'm in mine. I can't look at Harry though, all I want to see is the rain on the windowpanes and the lightening outside. And the thunder, counting second to see how far away it is. It isn't very far at all. Dumbledore is there, Snape is there, McGonagall is there, and Pomphrey is back. They talk to me and I can't hear them over the thunder in my ears. I ask for a _Prophet_ and someone shakes their head, then they're gone. The light is gone when I let myself open my eyes, their voices are echoing from a room far away. The rain is still falling, harder and harder and I open the window wide to let it all in.

Harry is staring at me and he isn't smiling or crying. He isn't happy or sad and that makes me sad, but I'm already not crying so why should I start over him? I can't cry because of that… if I don't cry over my Father than why cry over him, right?

I can feel tears though and as much as I want to pretend they are rain, I'm not standing near that window. I am nowhere near it and this rain I feel on my cheeks is all my own.

I'm cold again, I'm hungry but I feel nauseous. I can hear shouting, the teachers are shouting about us but I don't know what they are saying.

I'm cold.

I crawl into the bed next to Harry, behind him. He won't turn to see me and all I want is for him to look me in the eyes. Just once.

"Harry, all I need is you for just a moment and this'll all go away. When it's just you and me in here we have our own rules. We don't have to think about other people when it's just the two of us, right?" he still won't turn to me but I can feel him shaking and I know he's pretending that he's not crying either. I hate to love the way tears make his eyes sparkle and I love to hate him not turning to me, not looking at me.

I hold onto him from his back to front, holding him in my arms as closer than close can get. I rest my face in his neck, squeeze him tighter when the thunder scares me, breathe in the air he breathes and smell his scent. I kiss his neck just below his ear, his weak spot and he caves, turning to me and holding onto me too. And he holds on to me and keeps me warm and makes me forget about what made me feel so cold and dead inside only this morning. His ribs rub mine, his heartbeat pumping faster, his warmth spilling into me. He makes the night seem alive even when the dark and rain are everywhere.

"New rules. Number one…we forgot the old ones." He whispers softly so I only I hear him and I shake my head in agreement and he kisses my eyelids shut so I don't stare when we're so close.

"And … we don't need anymore rules Draco. Let's just pretend that it's just you and me for a little while and that's all. That's all we need, right?" I shake again in agreement and now he kisses me on my lips, so softly that I can't believe that he's kissing me at all. It's feathers, not lips until he goes a little harder a little deeper.

And for a moment, just a moment I actually can't hear the rain, or the door to the room closing quietly, or the thunder that normally makes me quake, or the hushed talk of the teachers outside our door. I can feel the raised scars on his arms and I feel sorry and I can feel him against me and I feel safe. I feel warm and loved for the first time in so long that for a moment it's just him and me, Harry and Draco.

And for a little while even after that I can forget that Ron and Hermione hate me, that Harry hates me, that my Mother blames me and that my Father is dead and that the school will hate both of us. I forget that Slytherin and Gryffindor are the two things that should never mix, that the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix will hate us both.

I've got my own Harry and that's enough for a moment, for an hour, for the night. I'll let the morning decide what I should remember, what I should deal with and what I should reconcile.

In the morning maybe I can pretend that today didn't happen, and I can hate him again.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I can see the red and yellow and orange splotches through my eyelids but I won't dare open my eyes to the real world just yet. It's morning and I may be awake but I will do nothing to disrupt Harry. My Harry.

He's still sleeping deeply, his arms around me and mine around him, his face resting only inches from mine. I'm so entwined that I fear moving at all or flickering an eyelash might wake him but I chance opening my eyes just for a moment but the moment stretches into minutes.

I try and count his heartbeats in a minute because his chest is pressed near mine, try to decipher what dreams he is having when his eyes flicker behind those black lashes. I realize that I am breathing in time with him, the same in and out pattern over and over.

Then I hear the voices in the hall, the bickering.

"…I can't believe this is happening…" that voice is McGonagall and I concentrate on the black of Harry's hair, of the exact outline of his famous scar to block her out again.

"… a disgrace to their Houses…" that voice is unmistakingly Snape's and I try harder to concentrate on Harry, to watch his now slowly opening eyes and will him to sleep again, to not hear the racket outside our door.

"…Mr. Malfoy was told by Mr. Weasley…" that would be Dumbledore and Harry's green eyes are quizzical, wondering what he means but I'm blocking that thought too.

"…how can this be dealt with?…" Pomphrey is in on this as well and Harry's closes his eyes with dawning comprehension.

"…Harry needs to get out of there, away from him…" Weasley speaks loud and clear and Harry winces, understanding how far this has gone. He disentangles himself from me and the blankets and walks slowly across the room. I follow him even though the cold stone isn't as inviting as the warm bed. He opens the door to a hallway of surprised faces.

"I would like to say that I cannot stand it when other people try to solve my problems and don't even think to involve me." I cast my eyes low and allow them to wander, gripping Harry's hand hard behind the door, where no one can see our fingers embraced.

"I would also like to say that I hate those Sensors and want them off for the remainder of my stay here. I want to have some privacy from Hogwarts for week and then maybe I'll be ready to get back into a normal life."

I can't allow my eyes to look up, I am too ashamed and scared and… worried? Harry is always so brave, so noble that this is his time to shine. I will let him shine now and pick up the pieces later, build him back up once he inevitably collapses from this all.

"I would like that and only that from you all for the next week and then I can promise you that that is what both I and Draco need."

The gaping faces of the crowd are only broken by Ron's face mixed in anger and Dumbledore's own set with worry. Snape looks ready to throw up and jinx Harry at the same time as McGonagall looked simply confused. And Ron... I don't want to think of what Ron has planned for me.

"Maybe if you let us figure out what's right for us then we'll be able to deal with everything. If you try and interfere things are bound to go…wrong. That's all I want to say. Thank you."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Harry shuts the door before anyone can try and change his mind; anyone can try and persuade us._

_"We need a talk Draco, really talk about everything. All...this."_

"_Ok," I whisper, my voice lost with the crowd and now not so easily found, "let's talk."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Keep the reviews coming!

luv

mintapotter


	16. Truth or Dare

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **The thank yous are at the bottom, but from now on the chap. titles are my own randomness!

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 16 - Truth or Dare

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_He nods, running his fingers over his knuckles, pulling a face at the fresh pain. I hate that perfect creamy skin, those stormy eyes. I hate how his hair is so damn silky, how his eyelashes look like they're permanently frosted with snowflakes. I hate his perfect body with my initials marring it, I hate his nimble hands, couture clothing, sly smile. I live to hate every inch of him._

_"So," he looks up to ask, his grin slowly spreading in the essence of evil "what's the name of the game?"_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After the incident with the teachers, I'm pretty sure I shot the last remnants of my nerves to hell. I quite literally took out a mental shotgun, gathered up all the nerve endings in my body and shot at them until they shriveled up and died, writhing.

Well, that's what I was thinking and lauhging about after I had shut the door on all their faces, even though when I look back, Malfoy couldn't see that going on in my head. I can only imagine how strange I looked. Crazy.

"Harry?" His eyes were looking up at me from underneath his eyelashes, each one light and airy as a feather. Sort of like him, I thought more to myself than anyone else. A little more than breakable.

I guess I said that out loud because he looked at me oddly for a moment or two after that before taking me by the hand and leading me slowly over to my bed.

His hands were cold, frail. Mine stung on the palms but I didn't pull away because the pain was a useful reminder that I was still awake and breathing. Alive. I felt like I was five years old again and the schoolteacher was leading me to my new desk. I didn't have enough thought left in me to think, really, so this was a pleasant surprise.

"We do need to talk about this whole arrangement…sanely. But if you're not up for it right now then…it can wait until tomorrow."

I laughed and laughed until my sides hurt.

"Me? In a sane conversation? Whom do you think you're kidding?"

Draco was shaking his head at me, looking a little scared and a little worried. I wasn't sure what he was so worried about. It wasn't like I went around and hurt him… well not to the same degree as he did. If anyone should be worried it was me, right?

"Harry, I think you're a little stressed right now and need to rest. How about…"

I could watch the word 'that' form on his perfectly formed lips, watch the sound being forced from between the pink poutiness. But nothing came out and for a split second it thought I had gone deaf.

"The irony." I whispered, my own sounds registering in my ears and proving my deaf theory wrong.

Oh damn.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy. I understand that the both of you wish to be left alone but you're still under my care and you both need some proper rest. There's no use arguing drinking this for either of you, so take it now please."

Pomphrey had materialized from behind me, swishing through the door in her wide robes with scarce a sound. Stern old Pomphrey was probably exactly what I needed, somebody else to tell me what to do.

I took the cup of Sleeping Draught from her and silently cheers'd Malfoy, downing it in one gulp. The liquid seeped through my veins quickly, leaving me only a few spare seconds to crawl under my covers and watch Malfoy do so too. By the time Pomphrey swished back out of the room and closed the door behind her, my eyes were disobeying my orders to stay open.

"Bad eyes." I berated them, yawning heavily before leaning back into my pillows.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Harry? Harry wake up."

I could see Malfoy's angelic face above mine, his brows knit together in worry.

"Good. You're still alive."

I groaned, pushing him away from me as quickly as I could. He fell back in disbelief I'm sure, landing on his ass. His perfect, pampered little ass.

"What the hell! You weren't waking up, I was worried!"

I shook his apologies out of my mind, closing my hands about my ears until his lips stopped moving. I had just, very abruptly remembered why I hated him.

"You weren't worried about me though. You were worried about you, about all the trouble you'd be in if I mysteriously didn't wake up."

"That's not true." He hissed back, standing up abruptly and brushing the dirt from his gray slacks.

"That's the way this should be. That's how we work, you and I. And you," I pointed at him for emphasis, though it was unnecessary, "you fucked up that balance when you crawled into my bed. You wanted me to care about you and feel sorry. And I don't even know what I was feeling sorry about but I cared about you anyway. You fucked this up."

Draco stared at me a long time before walking away, sliding down the opposite wall and staring out the window. "My Father died, that's why I came into your bed. You should have known that."

My face wasn't sure what to do for a moment, but a smile spreads over my lips the longer I thought about it.

Lucious Malfoy, dead.

Life couldn't really get all that much better, could it?

"The only thing better than that would be if Voldemort had killed him."

Malfoy's head curls with aching slowness away from the window, his eyes piercing right through me.

"He killed, himself." He kissed, nearly a threat.

My grin grew.

"Oh, well I suppose that's even better. You win on that one."

He stood with the poise of an animal about to lunge and kill its prey, but turned and punched the wall instead of running at me.

Interesting development.

"Why are you back like this all of a sudden?" He whispered, his voice threatening tears.

"Because like I said, that's how you and I work best. Most people have a relationship of love. They can't imagine their partner coming to any harm, they'll protect them with their own life. You and I have a relationship built up on pure hate, and that's what works for us."

Malfoy turned towards me and shook his head. "It doesn't have to be like that."

I wagged my finger at him, pulling myself off the bed and approaching him leisurely.

"No, it does. I'll fight for Dumbledore and all the Order and all the hopeless out there because I've got no other choice. And you'll end up being a Death Eater like your Father, and fighting for Voldemort because you've got no other choice. You're rich and pampered, you were born with a silver spoon shoved up your ass. I live with and aunt and uncle who hate me and won't spend a penny on me for anything. That's how the world is Malfoy, I finally see it clearly."

"It doesn't have to be like that. We can change." His eyes are crying even though his voice remains calm, resolute.

"No, actually we can't. The world sucks, but that's how it is. And now I get it that if things were different I could fall in love with you and be there for you, and we could be together forever. The End. But I get it that that's not happening anytime soon, so I'm giving up on that. And I'm fine with taking out all my anger on you, and you can do the same to me. And the rules from the outside compared to here have to be different, but we can manage that."

Malfoy is shaking his head at me, tears streaming down his face.

"You're the fucking HERO! Why can't you change things? Why can't we leave, and the neither of us have to fight? Why?"

I smirk, shushing him by pressing my finger to his lips.

"Because we've got too much to lose. Your mother will die if you do that. My friends, this school, wizard kind will die if I leave. That's why this is our only chance. Well, the choice I want to take."

"Why?"

"Because hate and love is the difference between fucking and making love. It's the difference between a bite on the back, and a nip on the shoulder. It's tame to wild, it's screaming to talking. It's more fun, it's what we're good at. And there's a lot to hate about each other, trust me."

Malfoy seems to get it, slowly but surely letting the tears dry up and comprehension leak in.

"You're demented."

"I know that."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_He nods, running his fingers over his knuckles, pulling a face at the fresh pain. I hate that perfect creamy skin, those stormy eyes. I hate how his hair is so damn silky, how his eyelashes look like they're permanently frosted with snowflakes. I hate his perfect body with my initials marring it, I hate his nimble hands, couture clothing, sly smile. I live to hate every inch of him._

_"So," he looks up to ask, his grin slowly spreading in the essence of evil "what's the name of the game?"_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Here's my two cents; I love all you reviewers! Thanks to:

**H-ice, ****brionyjae,** **Dragenphly,** **coolmarauders,** **koolmint26,** **Megalicious Moony,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan,** **Moony-Black,** **Ludra, ****Dezra,** **Lanfear1,** **Raiyevern,** **ATadObsessive46,** **mooneasterbunny, **& **MimiTaylor! **I wouldn't be writing this if no-one reviewed, so thank you so much!

Please keep reviewing,

mintapotter


	17. Truth

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author:** mintapotter

**A/N:** The thank yous are at the bottom, but from now on the chap. titles are my own randomness!

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 17 - Truth

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Oh Harry, dull Harry._

_He thinks that I am easy. Simple. Idiotic. _

_He thinks that whatever I tell him to do will be painless._

_He, fortunately, has never been inside the mind of a Malfoy._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The night after Harry's ludicrous proposition of an extreme game of truth or dare, I was hooked with the idea. I spent the early portion of the night awake in my bed, thinking of rules for it, boundaries. I had the feeling that there would be no boundaries on the kinds of things we'd dare each other, but that was the point. We were extreme, sadistic, vile.

And Harry was doing about the same as I was, thinking of how he wanted the game played. We didn't speak all morning, instead thinking in silence. Finally after lunch he spoke up.

"We'll start tonight. Set the foundations, begin the game."

I nodded, but he was too busy re-writing an essay to notice. He took for granted that I would agree.

"At eleven, in the astronomy tower. No one will be around."

I smiled and didn't say a word. We didn't need to speak anymore, it was a silent agreement not to talk about it.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Through lack of sleep the night before I fell asleep sometime after dark at my desk, waking at five to eleven with Harry nowhere in sight.

"The bastard left without me." My whisper fell on no-ones ears but my own. Grabbing a cloak and sweeping out of the room without a glance around for Pomphrey, it seemed nearly disgusting how easy it was to sneak out now that the teachers were afraid of Harry and I.

I climbed every stone step with care not to fall through the false ones or make an echo with my padding feet. I was almost full out running with desperation to get to the astronomy tower on time, but when I rushed in Harry was staring quietly out over the parapets.

"You're late, you idiot." He said this plainly, still staring out at the frosty grounds below us. My stomach did a flop with him looking out over the ledge, but I hoped that he was past the phase of dropping me off tower tops.

"I dozed off, you could have woken me."

"You're not my problem. I am not your keeper, and won't ever be." He responded slowly, finally turning to me and sitting back on the parapet, not even a flicker of fear in his eyes that I would push him over it. My fingers itched to do it, but I stood still and kept control.

"Well, now that I'm here let's clear some things up. For example, who goes first?"

Harry cracked his neck both ways while thinking. I despised that snapping sound all his bones made, but held my tongue. I, for one, did not want to have to go first.

"My game, my idea, I get to go first."

I sighed in relief only in my head. When around Harry there was no telling what a sign of weakness would do to you. "Alright, what's your incentive of actually playing?"

"I get to choose a truth or a dare, and you think up something for me to tell or do. I have to do it in the time limit of…let's say a week?" I nod, he doesn't look up to care. "If you complete it then you get to truth or dare the other person, if you don't do it…the game ends. We no longer meet late at night in the tower, we don't talk or fuck or anything. If you're out of the game this whole fucked up relationship ends."

"Fine." I whisper, realizing that this all I'll get. We're going back to our normal houses, we'll sit with our normal friends and do all the normal things. Homework, Quidditch, beating on each other and each others friends. This is going to be it.

Oh well, all good things must come to some sort of an end.

"And what are the boundaries?"

He thinks for a long time on this one, his face illuminated by the soft moonlight when he faces the grounds again. He's wearing only a black t-shirt and pair of trousers, and the scars on his arm are perfectly smooth, white lines crisscrossing the skin. Every time I see them I think back to how I made him do that, indirectly. And then I flashback to the thoughts of his initials in my own flesh, the permanent tattoo of _'H.P'_ adorning my hip. I could have spelled it better, but I like the feeling of being owned.

I wish that I could mark him like that and make him all fucking mine.

"There are none. If you choose not to participate because you think it's going too far, then the game ends and we end. So if you want this whole thing to continue you'll choose things that you think the other person will actually be able to do, even if it may be embarrassing, humiliating or painful." He smiles at me and slides down from the parapet, his eyes smiling promises of all those things he mentioned once he gets a turn to do me in.

"So what do you want tonight?" I ask this quietly, my mind reeling with all sorts of possibilities for revenge against him, all kinds of dares…

"Truth."

I stare at him and his reservedly sly smile. He really thinks that he owns me, that he can get out of doing anything terrible by always choosing 'truths' and that I'll be stupid enough to only choose the 'dares.'

"And you think this is going to be easy." I whisper to him, the smile in his eyes flickering out. Something in my tone scared him enough to rethink that answer.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Oh Harry, dull Harry._

_He thinks that I am easy. Simple. Idiotic._

_He thinks that whatever I tell him to do will be painless._

_He, fortunately, has never been inside the mind of a Malfoy._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Alrighty, here's to clear up a few questions I've been asked:

1.) That ball that can tell emotions that Ron & Hermionehave? That still works even though Harry wanted the sensors off, and that'll make it's comeback, it's just REALLY delayed...

2.) Draco still can't talk to anyone but Harry. Harry is the only person who he can talk to right now. That's what has to be fixed...

and 3.) They're both majorly fucked. Up.

Ok, onto review thank you's!

**Chatwyn** **Helsinki, VAMpires,** **noir fluer,** **Megalicious Moony,** **brionyjae,** **JadeLilyMalfoy,** **Lanfear1,** **MimiTaylor,** **koolmint26,** **Aeris, **&**Nfinity Nite Monaghan**! Yes, this chap was delayed but it was X-Mas and New Years...can you really blame me?

Anyway, please review and as always,

luv

mintapotter


	18. Mind Fuck

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N:** The thank yous are at the bottom, but from now on the chap. titles are my own randomness!

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 18 - Mind Fuck

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_Beat you to it! You can't dare me it now, you won't win! YOU WON'T WIN!"_

_I'm screaming to an empty hallway, nothing but the cold night air to listen to me lose it._

"_You're going to wish for death when I'm done with you."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Since this is a truth, I think you should be able to finish it tonight, right? No need for that whole one week rule."

Draco's voice is lilting with something a little evil beneath the surface. When his voice goes deeper and as soft as a feather, that can only mean that his words will be used to slice me open. He can say things to me than cut me much deeper, faster and with more pain than a blade ever could. His eyes give away that he has a master plan up his sleeve to piss me off the same way I wanted to do it to him.

He caught my bluff.

I thought he'd be peeved that couldn't dare me to do anything severely damaging to my health. I thought he'd be so angry at this that he wouldn't think straight enough to give me a 'truth' worth being afraid of.

But I am not one who enjoys divulging secrets. I like to keep them, hoard them in a backroom in my mind and only revisit them when I see fit. I lock them away so that I can go through an entire day without breaking down at the words 'Mum', 'Dad', 'Hufflepuff' and 'Convict''. I have created a haven of ugly, dirty secrets that I keep back there.

I just gave Draco the key to that room.

"I'll do it tonight. Get it over with, will you? Think of something you want to hear."

I feel like I could count every tooth behind his lips, he jumping up to sit on a student's desk while swinging his legs nonchalantly. He looks like such a pure person, his silver threads of hair and milk turned to skin is deceiving so that he seems very childlike and kind. He's like a devil in an angels skin. The bastard.

"I want you to recall, in detail and chronological order, the deaths of your parents, Cedric and Sirius. And you must answer any question I ask while you recount them."

I think my mind is screaming and ripping itself apart for its own stupidity. That is all I want to do in reality too, but it won't get me out of this.

"So, start with your parents. Details Harry too, I want details." He sits back as he says this and I have to lean against the cold stone wall to support my wavering legs. I wish that just for once I could pass out and not have to speak a word.

"They died when I was one. I hardly remember a thing."

"Lies, lies and lies. You remember a whole lot, I know you do. Play the game fair Harry or we'll never get anywhere."

I stare into his cold, careless grey eyes and try to send the message that after this I will kill him. He can hear everything he wants to, in detail, but he'll pay for it later.

"Voldemort came to kill me at first, I was all he wanted –"

"Why?"

I swallow the urge to strangle him.

"I don't know why, he just did. And he came and my Father tried to stop him, and he was killed. Avada Kedavra, that's it. And Voldemort gave my Mother chances to leave me and not get killed but she wouldn't do it so he killed her too. One spell, that's all. Then he came after me, and it rebounded somehow. I got left with a scar and he nearly died. There you go, end of story."

"Oh come now, you must remember more than that. Don't make me get Veritiserum from Snape to weasel all your memories from you."

I can feel my throat getting itchy and constricted, but the vision of that night won't stop replaying in my mind. I want this to stop.

"The spell had a green light, a flash. That's all I remember really-"

"Did they scream Harry? Beg?"

"MY PARENTS DID NOT BEG!"

I turn away from the wall, my eyes burning now too. I want to reach out and pluck Draco's eyes from his sockets; I want to kick him until he feels like I feel right now. He's silent, only my harsh breathing echoing in the room.

"So they screamed then? Figures."

I.

Will.

Not.

Cry.

I refuse.

"Alright then, go on to Cedric. How did he kick the can? It was all very hush-hush, I never really knew what went on in that maze."

"Even your Father wouldn't tell you? Can't you just ask…" I pause for the dramatics, but Draco has clenched his jaw and is already prepared for my barb. "Oh, I suppose you can't just ask him about it anymore, seeing as he 'kicked the can' all by his lonesome."

"Terribly witty Harry, but shut up about that and tell me what I want to hear."

I close my eyes and try to breathe deep, to push down the cloying urge to cry and-

No.

There's Cedric again, lying in the dirt with his eyes wide open and looking nowhere.

"Cedric and I helped each other through the tournament. We became friends. And in the very end we were both right there at the cup, and we wanted each other to have it…But being the noble git I was then and he the kind of person he was, we shared it. Both touched it at the same time…I told him to take it with me."

Draco is sitting straight on the desk now, rapt with attention for my story. My eyes are prickling, but I am well learned in keeping down emotion. I will not cry, not for him. Not like this.

"The cup was a portkey to the graveyard…when we got there all Voldemort did was say 'Kill the spare.' and Wormtail did it, he killed Cedric on Voldemort's orders. We had no warning, there was no fight. It was a surprise and…"

I can feel hot tears fall from my eyes even though the only emotion in my body feels like is rage. I'm angry at Wormtail and Voldemort and Draco and myself for telling Draco, and Cedric for being so stupid as to listen to me and-

"Harry. I'm not here to listen to you sob your pathetic little heart out. Visit the Weasel for that. I want to know what he looked like."

More tears, more anger. "He died, eyes open, spread eagled on the dirt. He was left for nothing, I brought his body back to be buried but I couldn't go to the funeral…it didn't feel right."

"Oh. Poor you." Draco yawns and stretches like a cat across the desk, resting his head easily on his folded hands and observing me from a distance. I knew that I look a wreck, my eyes red and my cheeks wet. He smiles.

"Now last and definitely least, Sirius. I know very little about that one, but I'd love to be filled in. And Harry," Draco smiles wider now, "If you say everything perfectly the first time I won't have to ask questions."

I breathe deep and it hurts so, so bad to think, or talk but I do. I have to.

It's in the rules, and they're all I have.

"Sirius was my Godfather. He never killed my parents, Wormtail's what caused that. But I couldn't live with him because everyone thought he was a killer…One day I had a dream, a vision of sorts where I saw him in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. And he was being tortured by Voldemort…I thought it was true I swear."

I'm sobbing, I'm not sure where Draco is or if he's laughing at me here crying. I slide down the wall even though my shirt rides up at the bottom and it burns my skin, and I sit on the stone and cry.

"I swear, I went to save him, no one else should have come, no one should have known…he wasn't there. It was a trick, Voldemort wanted me to come alone, and I brought my friends who almost all died." I laugh thickly at the idea, even though it's not even slightly funny.

"And the Order came to save us, they all tried and Sirius came and…he got a spell to the chest, it didn't kill him though. I watched him fall forever through this veil, backwards…I watched him go and I know he's dead somewhere, I'm just not sure where. And I killed him, for real Draco, I'm the only reason he came and the only reason he…died."

It's a lot harder to say it out loud.

Maybe, maybe it's an hour later. Maybe it's ten minutes. I can feel Draco's breath in my ear, whispering.

"I'm not sorry Harry, and I'm not an idiot like you so I choose a dare. Tomorrow, here, eleven. Get yourself back to bed before someone notices you're gone. I'm not covering for you."

He kisses the top of my head and he's gone with no sound of his leaving. He's like the plague; silently creeping from room to room without a sound and ruining everything he touches. I try and wipe off the feeling of his lips on my head.

I need another feeling to replace this one; the crying, the rage.

No.

Just replace the crying. I want to save the rage for tomorrow, for Draco. I want to make him hurt until he bleeds and his pain explodes so much more than mine is.

I find a broken quill under a desk and run it against the stone until the nib breaks, and I start to draw the letter _'D'_ near the crook of my arms, dig deep until I think the scar will be nice and thick. I can only think of drawing, thin perfect lines across my skin with this pen.

When I told Ron I wasn't cutting, I wasn't lying. I'm drawing, only drawing, I'm sketching in the lines with my own red ink.

I draw in the little dot and then begin work on an 'M' worthy of the name Malfoy. I add a loop in my scrawl, thinking back to when Draco let me do this to him. He made such a fuss, this doesn't even hurt when you're angry enough. I don't think that it was the physical pain that hurt him when I did it though, I think it was more than I did it without his permission. That he knew that he no longer had to give me permission to do anything to him.

I take a look at my work and realize that I'm an awful doodler.

"Ha." I cough a laugh at the room and let the blood from the letters stream down the sides of my arm and onto the floor, then a desk, then make it trail behind me in little droplets as I leave the room. I'm thinking of the shock the teachers will get tomorrow. They'll want to check my arms, but I won't show up to the elbow. They'll never see. Draco will tomorrow though. I'll make him see.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_Beat you to it! You can't dare me it now, you won't win! YOU WON'T WIN!"_

_I'm screaming to an empty hallway, nothing but the cold night air to listen to me lose it._

"_You're going to wish for death when I'm done with you."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Alright...the chapter title this week made me giggle. Silly, crazy me.

Anyway, thank you for everyone who's stuck through this entire story and those just joining it now!

**jordz, ****Vampire Louis,** **Kari Morgana Black,** **dreamerswaking,** **nickainai** ,**JadeLilyMalfoy,** **bullets00,** **coolmarauders** ,**MimiTaylor,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan,** **Megalicious Moony,** **brionyjae,** **Miss.H, Chatwyn,**& **koolmint26. **You keep it rocking in the free world...or whatever it is that you do in the time you're not on this website.

THANK YOU, and please keep reviewing!

Love, mintapotter


	19. All Gone

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N:** I'm sick, I have exams, and I'm tired. Just so you know, I consider this chapter a tide over until I can update a real chapter with more sick, evil, twisted Harry/Draco stuff...so be on the watch out ; ) Anyway, please enjoy (thank you's for the B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L reviewers are at the bottom).

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 19 - All Gone

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I walk back into the Great Hall, still some eyes watching me and wondering why I'm all alone now._

_"Where's Harry?" Hermione asks me this as I sit back down at the table._

_"Who knows?" I shrug it off. "He's gone."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Breakfast in the Great Hall with Hermione is a sad affair, lackluster without Harry. Owls swoop all over, first years giggle over seventh years they have no chance with, whispers are exchanged between tittering girls. Everything is boring to me, boring without someone to talk to. But Harry is away, locked in a room on his own free will with the one person in the world I hate the most. Harry is doing things I don't even want to contemplate most of the time. He is being hurt, he is hurting himself, and he won't let anyone in to help him.

Hermione, for all her trying, just can't replace Harry.

And, stupid and self loathing as he may be, I miss the git.

"Ron?"

"What, 'Mione?"

My tone is exasperated and all I can hope for is that she will not ask me one more time if I'm ok, or if my homework is done. I'm pretty sure that if she does, my mind will implode and I will snap at her.

"Guess who's back early?"

I won't let myself turn around to look at him, but I know that he's just walked in. A hush falls over our table, then a river of whispering and gawking.

"Welcome back Harry." That's Dean talking. I can hear Neville saying something to him too as he approaches myself and Mione at the table. Now half of our year has said 'welcome back' and it's my turn.

Those are the words I wish I could say, but my eyes won't move from my toast and my mouth won't form the words. Mione's hand leaves my arm and she turns to greet him with the warmth I should be able to.

"We missed you."

She stands and turns, and most likely hugs him. I can no longer get away with pretending he's not here, so I turn too.

"Hey Ron."

It's simple. All I have to say is "missed you mate." And everyone will stop staring at us, and they'll coo that it's so cute that we made up.

"You're talking now? To everyone? And you're back early. I thought you two needed a week to _figure things out."_

Harry's face looks a little thinner than the beginning of the year, and his composure is so much harder that it's almost imposing. Scary even. He seems sure of himself, less awkward than before. He doesn't flinch or explode at me for saying this, a secret I heard and am yet to tell everyone else.

"Malfoy still can't talk and there's no use in me still being up there, so I decided to leave early. I'm sick of doing all the homework and not being in classes with you guys."

This seems like a sincere enough apology, but something's missing. Old Harry, the one I know would never have said this. He would be angry with me for nearly letting out a secret of his, that I knew that he and Malfoy had for some strange reason been sleeping in the same bed. Seamus shifts down in the seat beside me so that Harry can sit at my left with Hermione at my right, and the entire table oblivious to the fact that Harry's changed.

He's faking this.

"Harry, we need to talk. In private."

He gives me a look and for just a second I can see that he is very, very angry with me. But the flash leaves his face and he stands to leave, and I follow suit. I can feel hundreds of pairs of eyes watching us leave the Hall, but no one has the nerve to follow us and listen in.

"What the hell really happened in the Infirmary Harry? You got hurt, you wouldn't tell me about it, you and the ferret were-"

"It's none of your business."

"I think it is. I'm your best mate and you're not even telling me what was going on."

Harry takes a deep breath and scratches at his arm, the same one he cut up. He catches me looking at it and smiles, a sly and cynical smile that's not used to sitting on his face.

"Don't think you'll catch me cutting up again Ron. I'm not that stupid."

"To what, do it or get caught again?"

At that moment Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore walk almost right by us, stopping only at the end of my sentence. She takes a moment to compose herself, Harry and I quiet until one of them speaks up.

"Mr. Potter, you may be aware that we found some rather incriminating evidence last night in the astronomy tower and we are very concerned about you."

Harry smiles for her, the look of perfect innocence on his face.

"I was in the Infirmary last night Professor; I have no idea why you're questioning me about anything to do with the astronomy tower."

"Well Mr. Potter, since we no longer have any wards on over your room we have no evidence at all about where you were between last night and this morning. And since Mr. Malfoy seems to have no idea whether or not you left the room last night, we are obliged to ask for your own health."

Harry shakes his head and I can tell that he's feigning misunderstanding.

"I don't know what you're asking of me Professor."

Dumbledore finally steps in, his face weary with obvious worry for Harry. "We'd like to see your arms Harry."

He looks from one to the other of them, then a quick glance at me before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. The raised white scars on his arm or no more in number since weeks ago, and nothing new is adorning his arms. He rolls his sleeves back down and looks almost angry for having to prove himself to us.

"I'm fine Professors and I was wondering if I could rejoin with normal classes today. I've had plenty of time to think and I just want to get back to normal. Could I go back to my own dormitory tonight?"

Dumbledore seems so genuinely believing of Harry that he immediately says, "Of course my boy, we'll have all your things moved over there today."

Even McGonagall nods and lets a small smile slip.

"It's nice to know that you're back in shape Potter. You'll be in my class this afternoon?"

Harry nods and they leave, both believing and happy with the imposter only posing as Harry Potter.

"So you're really not cutting yourself, or you're just doing it where we can't see?"

I break the silence with this and Harry laughs right out loud, his lips pulled tight over his too white teeth. His smile scares me.

"Whatever you want to think. And as for what went on in the Infirmary between myself and Malfoy, even if I told you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

He takes a good look at me, and then shakes his head.

"It's over. I'm out, I'm not slicing up my arms, and I'm talking. I'm doing everything you all want me to do. Look, I'm being civil and I'm smiling for everyone, I'm going back to classes-"

"You're faking it Harry. If you're still messed up-"

"No one should know about it."

He hisses this at me and turns away, cracking his neck nervously. He never used to have habits like this, he was never so edgy. Something's still wrong.

"I've found a way out of being angry with myself all the time Ron, and no, I won't tell you what it is. I can be everything that the entire wizarding world wants me to be now. I can be normal because I've figured out a way to keep my messed up side from showing."

"You're faking this Harry, you're covering up what really wrong. Why can't you just tell me?"

He scoffs at this, watches a group of Ravenclaw's walk past us.

"The whole point is that I can't tell you. It's a secret. Just accept that the Harry you see right now, the one who's going to classes is the Harry you want. Just pretend that I'm fine, alright?"

"I just want you like you used to be, before this year."

"Well I can't alright, I just can't! That's gone! I can't be naïve, happy little go lucky Gryffindor anymore! That's not who I am! So just accept this or leave me the fuck alone. I don't need you to pry into my business."

I stand and stare, this angry bloke in front of me nothing like the one I used to know. Something's gone, and something's been replaced. Harry's different now, and not in a good way. And even if I'm the only one who notices that he's faking this persona right now, it's bound to crack sometime.

"Fine. I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I walk back into the Great Hall, still some eyes watching me and wondering why I'm all alone now._

_"Where's Harry?" Hermione asks me this as I sit back down at the table._

_"Who knows?" I shrug it off. "He's gone."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Alright my pretties, here goes:

**ravendreamer04,** **Lanfear1,** **Julia ,** **koolmint26,** **Megalicious Moony,** **nickainai,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan** **JadeLilyMalfoy,** **Jane.Jumped,** **miss.G ,coolmarauders,** &**brionyjae**. If you're highly confused, at the moment:

1. They're both going back to normal classes now.

2. Truth or Dare is their secret.

3. That stupid ball that tells emotions still has a point (I promise)

4. Harry can talk whenever he wants to, Draco can only talk to Harry (until Harry deep down decides that enough torture is enough...which in their case just may be never).

SO, until next time,

please keep reviewing and lots of love,

mintapotter


	20. Run, Draco, Run

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N:**I'm not sick anymore. (Insert cheering here.) Anyway, my THANK YOU OH REVIEWERS OF POWER are at the bottom!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 20 - Run, Draco, Run

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I press a kiss to his lips,_

_quick,_

_like you'd kiss the lips of a corpse,_

_and that little voice in my mind whispers._

Goodbye.

"_Draco, beauty, you should have run."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

This is the night.

I plodded through every single morning class with Draco's presence never once off my mind. He isn't in classes yet, but I can feel him even though he's not in the same room I stand in. He decided to stay in the Infirmary wing for a few days longer, and seeing as how my powerover him still won't let him speak to anyone but me it's a smart decision.

But I know in my minds eye that he finished all his class work this morning, early. And I know that as soon as he was done and I wasn't there, he became bored. And then he started pacing, and his heartbeat picked up. Not because he was excited for tonight; he is truly scared.

_Thu-thump, thu-thump._

Draco is smart, and as often as I call him an idiot, I never really mean it. He's a thinker, a plotter. He is thinking of all the darkly twisted scenarios he might end up in at the astronomy tower tonight.

Tonight is Draco's night to be put through hell, and a dare made by my mind isn't going to be pretty. I have years of experience in situations where the inhumane was simply on par for the night. When I was eleven I pushed my hands into the skin of Professor Quirell until his flesh burned and blistered under my touch. And I chose to do that.

I watched Cedric die when I was only fourteen and I held on to his very cold and very dead body to bring him back. Because I chose to help him.

And tonight, I will hurt Draco fucking Malfoy until he bleeds into the stones so much that they'll never get the stains out, because I want to.

"Mr. Potter, were you listening to a thing I just said?"

This is a call down to earth. Snap back to reality; Transfiguration. Think, think, think. Bluff an answer.

"Yes Professor, the element you would need would be…" now I only have to feign not knowing the answer for a moment, I wouldn't want to come off as arrogant, "the heartwood of the choke tree?"

McGonagall smiles and nods. Hermione glows. Ron is still mad, Draco is still pacing, and I have convinced everyone that I am an upstanding yet misunderstood youth. My fellow students think I had a meltdown, which was inevitable for me, and now I'm hunky dory. The Professors want that to be so, my fans want it, my friends want it. Ron is the exception, there's always one, and Draco is what keeps everyone else from figuring out that I'm completely mad.

Now, instead of me snapping angrily in class when Snape bates me I can smile and be witty, charming even. And then I can take all that pent up anger and fuck Draco into the walls of this school late, late at night and no-one will ever know but the two of us. Our arrangement is perfect.

_I was listening Professor, I swear. No, of course I'm not plotting murder. Me? Never._

Tomorrow no one will guess that I, that boy with the green eyes and sad smile was the one to break Draco Malfoy's chin.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"So Harry, what's it going to be?"

Draco's been here since before eleven, I can tell because his voice betrays his body. It shivers a bit as he's losing control. His body is in contrast to it because it remains perfectly rigid, his back always in line and his shoulders taut. Bones are stretching the pale skin on his face a little too tight, so the dim moonlight that fills the room pulls shadows across it. I can't wait to snap those razor sharp cheekbones, or bruise his lovely, ruler straight nose. There's just so much perfection in Draco that is burning to be broken for the first time.

"Before I tell you what your dare is for the night, I want you to know that what you did to me last time made me very, very angry."

Silence. I stare at him until he responds and wonder what his gorgeous white lashes will look like against the purple bruising of a black eye. Maybe the darker skin will make his eyes stand out, which isn't fair because that means that even after being beaten he will still look better than me.

"That's the point Harry. And without the reminiscing, I just want to get this over with. So please, just tell me." He's harsh for someone who's scared shitless.

"Fine. Have it your way. Right now Draco, on that clock up there," I point at a clock positioned over the teacher's desk in the room, and he turns to see it, "it tells me that right now it's eleven o' three. And I'm going to countdown, and then I'm going to get ten minutes to do whatever I want to do to you. And it's your dare to never utter a word that it was me that did anything to you in those ten minutes. Understood?"

Draco turns back to me, eyes wide. He wasn't expecting this. This goes against everything he planned for. Poor little Draco.

"So what, I just have to stand here-"

"Ten."

I speak over his voice and remove my cloak, draping it over the back of a student's desk.

"-and take"

"Nine."

I undo the buttons to my shirt cuffs,

"-whatever you do to me?" Draco finishes, his own hands shaking now.

"Eight."

I roll up the sleeves.

"Harry, tell me-"

"Seven."

I crack my neck to the right.

"-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Six."

To the left.

"Five."

Crack my shoulders. Draco huffs and walks away.

"Four."

Crack my fingers, right hand. He walks back, before me.

"Three."

Left hand.

Draco looks around the room, glancing perhaps for a spot to hide. His breathing is harder now, his hands are shaking. I have him fairly spooked.

"Two."

Good. It would be no fun at all if he weren't in the least bit scared.

"One."

I step right up to Draco, my fingers reaching up of their own will to caress the smoothly shaved skin of his cheek. He gasps as a shiver passes from his skin through my fingertips. His eyes are glued to mine because he still needs an answer to his question.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I press a kiss to his lips_

_quick,_

_like you'd kiss the lips of a corpse,_

_and that little voice in my mind whispers._

Goodbye.

"_Draco, beauty, you should have run."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Let's get down to business (to defeat the huns...no?) Ok, enough kidding around. Cheers to:

**JPhinala, ****RadMuggle,** **ravendreamer04,** **brionyjae,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan** **JadeLilyMalfoy,** **Megalicious Moony,** **Lyra Skywalker,** **MimiTaylor, **& **Julia**! If you aren't on the list, it's easy enough. Just send me a review, whether you love it or find it lacking. So please, keep reviewing and

lots of love,

mintapotter


	21. Fucking Tear You Apart

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author:** mintapotter

**A/N:** This was TOO MUCH FUN to write, so I hope that you love it as much as I do. BTW, this story had an ending that I know of, but whenever I get a messed up thought of a truth or dare that I have to write about, this whole thing keeps getting longer. So be ready for a long, long story! (The titles from the song 'Tear You Apart' by She Wants Revenge. And hey, I get dibs on writing the songfic!)

ENJOY!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 21 - Fucking Tear You Apart

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_I'm sorry." I whisper, but he's not responding. The moonlight is enough to see by, and there's a lot of blood that isn't mine. It's a pool, and it's growing like a vile disease across the floor, staining it and then continuing on. And the slurping, rattling breaths are no longer there. His chest isn't rising or falling, and his skin's just a little too white. _

_The silence without his breath is deafening._

"_Shit."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Draco, Draco, Draco.

He just doesn't get it.

Everything we do to each other only reciprocates, and it gets worse every time.

And that son of a bitch crossed the line.

He made me relive what I hold secret. He invaded my mind, he forced it out into the open. He made me cry, and he watched as I lost it. He's invading my mind the same way he did at the beginning of the year, back when his taunts about Sirius were enough to send me over the edge.

Then I cut myself out of anger, desperation, rage. Now, now I have my medium for revenge, and it just so happens to be him.

Under the veil of this game is my idea of anger management, and I'm fucking enraged.

"Draco, beauty, you should have run."

I whisper to him as he stands stock still and perfectly straight before me, his eyes widening in the split second before I wind back my fist, and smash it through his jaw.

_Start the ten-minute timer, please._

His head snaps to the side, and the momentum of that movement sends his entire body falling backwards, but not down. The teacher's desk stops his fall and he clings to its edge before I find what I was looking for.

A paperweight. A fist sized, iron paperweight in the shape of an owl.

It's a moment in time that seems to stop for me as I grab the weight and he begins to pull himself up from the edge of the desk. I take that moment to decide to go for his right hand, since it's the one he writes with. I slam the weight down, holding it between both of my hands and jumping to put as much force into it as I can.

He screams when it crushes his fingers, and now I'm really thankful that this room is out of the way.

"FUCK! FUCKING HELL! What do you think you're-" I throw the weight at his head now, he narrowly dodging it mid sentence even though it's wing tip scratches the side of his face but doesn't gouge out his eye. Only a scratch of blood, nothing deep.

"Damn, I missed." My lips curl to smile as his form a thin line, white with anger.

I lunge for him now, he laying curled on the floor with his right hand protectively cradled within his left. His jaw is already swelling, the blood from the scratch by the weight trickling down the side of his face. Everything in the room seems an eerie shade of gray in the moonlight; his eyes dark, his skin a luminescent kind of white and the blood a deep maroon like black.

His foot connects with my stomach somehow, and the breath is knocked straight out of me. I fall to my knees and gasp for it back, the sick feeling of gagging overtaking me as I throw up onto the stone floor. He might have bruised a rib, I'll give him that.

"Never said I couldn't fight back." He taunts before spitting a wad of blood onto the floor. The smell of it alone prompts me to vomit again, but I don't. Won't.

When I wipe my mouth I'm really only giving him the moment to regain his composure. There's no fun in a fight that doesn't have any resistance. I glance over at a clock positioned at the opposite wall, and see that nearly a minute and a half of my fighting time is gone.

_Damnit._

I lunge for him again and growl with the frustrations of lost time, only this time I have the knowledge to sidestep his kick. I swipe again at the side of his face where the jaw is already most likely cracked, and he howls like I'm pulling teeth or something.

On second thought, I've probably just knocked more than a few lose.

"Remember that whole karma thing, huh Drake? Remember when I told you that?"

He's making gasps through the blood in his mouth, his eyes shooting daggers at me. He knows all too well what's coming, and he doesn't like it a bit. But as for that, I didn't enjoy it all that much at that time either.

I grab a sheet of his white blonde hair from the top of his head, jerking him up to stand and forcing him over to the teachers desk.

"Karma's a bitch."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I have Draco pushed up against the desk, and by the time I push his face down to smash into the desktop, I'm hard.

Perfect timing. It's sick.

He manages a half grunt of pain, his left hand rising to his nose to try and assess the damage there. I fumble to undo the button and fly of my trousers, and he remains oblivious to all I'm doing.

This is, until I reach around to undo his and he rears around and punches me straight in the gut.

"Don't…even...think about it." He gasps, a river of blood coming from his mouth and nose now, staining his shirt and dripping down onto the floor. It pisses me off that he wouldn't think to cover his face first because that's what everyone will notice tomorrow. The swelling in his jaw and the blackening of his eyes will be noticed before anyone could see the fingerprints pushed into his hips. Idiot.

"I'm way past thinking about it Draco, I'm halfway there. And you can fight, or you can comply. I still have enough minutes left on the clock to deal with either, so it's your choice."

He steels himself, and shakes his head no, then tries to hide a tiny smirk because he can see the rage flickering through my eyes. A little, teensy, tiny part of Draco likes the fight of it all. And that little tiny part makes it more fun to try.

I grab for his hair and he makes another feeble attempt to swat my hand away, growling deep in his throat, but he's in no condition to fight really. I push him around, my left hand holding his neck down and pushing his face further into the grain of the desktop. My right hand is finishing what it started before, undoing his fly and button. He grunts with the work of trying to pull his head up, but it only aids me in smashing it back down again. I can hear the distinctive sound of a cracking bone, his nose, and then his unavoidable yelp of pain.

That's when I decide that I've wasted enough time with the pleasantries.

I push my own hard on into him and he doesn't even try to suppress a moan. All I can think of is how it felt from the other side of the scenario, how painful, how controlled, how terrible. But I thrust again, deeper and harder and I find a way somehow to block out all he's saying, and all the sounds he's making. I don't want to remember what it was like from the other end.

From my current point of view, I see exactly what was in it for Draco.

_Bliss._

I close my eyes and keep his face smashed against the wood, my mind shut against what he must look like by now.

It's what he feels like that matters.

And it's a beautiful, sinful feeling. He's tight, warm and better than I could have ever imagined. I can faintly hear him crying, choking, and in my minds eye I should envision his face thick with blood and bruising, but I think of him as perfect instead. Why not fuel the fantasy? My senses begin to overload, and an odd tingling feeling begins in my groin before I come inside of him.

I stagger back, and as I'm doing up my fly I turn to watch the clock.

Funny that, I've got a whole minute and some left.

"You _fucker_, your parents would be so ashamed." He slurs his words and smirks again at me, slumped against the desk, legs too tired to hold himself up. "Sirius would be disgusted, they all hate you. They think you're a pig, and that you've sunk to my level. They hate you."

"You just don't know-" my whole body goes numb when I grab for him again, throwing him down until his perfectly bloodied blond self is pinned on the ground beneath me, "- when to FUCKING SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

I grab the sides of his head, his messy smile like that of red velvet still smirking at me, and I think I'm screaming something at him and then I slam his head down onto the floor again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and then I'm kicking him in the ribs again, and again, and again, and again, and-

I lost myself somewhere. I lost myself, I'm not sure when I start or stop, or why. There's a little while-

_Stop._

He doesn't say the word. I tell myself.

_Stop._

I can't remember when it started, or how I stopped.

I look up at the clock, but I'm not near Draco anymore. I'm sitting on a desk, and my hands have warm, wet blood on them. And my shoes are shining with it too. There's something wrong here. I'm speckled red.

He's lying on the floor a ways away.

And I'm out of time in

three,

two,

one,

now.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_I'm sorry." I whisper, but he's not responding. The moonlight is enough to see by, and there's a lot of blood that isn't mine. It's a pool, and it's growing like a vile disease across the floor, staining it and then continuing on. And the slurping, rattling breaths are no longer there. His chest isn't rising or falling, and his skin's just a little too white. _

_The silence without his breath is deafening._

"_Shit."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you, oh thank you. You made writing this more fun than should be legal:

**nickainai, RadMuggle, MimiTaylor, jocelyn perks, JadeLilyMalfoy, Megalicious Moony, Lethe Albion, brionyjae, Nfinity Nite Monaghan , Julia, Katy Kinneas, DarkClaz, Miss.G , **& **Lyra Skywalker!**

To answer a question: Harry's psycho. He completely, totally snapped. People died, he held up a lot of anger, he let it all out one day and it landed him here. He takes out all his anger on Draco so that he can act completely normal to the rest of his school and the wizarding world. And why is he so sadistic, you might ask? Why not, is my reply.

ANYWAY,

lots of luv,

mintapotter


	22. Beating Heart

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **The title's still from 'Tear You Apart' by She Wants Revenge, and this title should be a hint as to the life/death status of Draco. If you're still confused, just read on! BTW, I never meant that to make you believe that he was dead, it amazes me that you all thought it was the ending! Anyway,

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 22 - Beating Heart

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I'm not thinking about the stares I'll receive if Madam Pomphrey sees me carrying Draco bruised, battered, and wrapped only in a towel into our room. I'm not thinking about how we'll explain away the damage, and I don't care to know why Draco still wants in to the game._

_I'm wondering what in the fuck he's planning to do to me in the next week._

"_I've just bought a one way ticket to hell."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I wake up, and the first thing I can think of is that my mouth tastes like it's filled with coins. It's become a bank machine of my bodies currency; blood.

Blurs of orange, red and yellow leak through my eyelids, so it's morning. I roll over and spit blood, wads of it, onto whatever I'm laying on; something hard. A floor, stone, the floor of the castle.

In a flash of pain I regret moving at all; my ribs ache from the movement, my head feels like it's very likely to explode any moment now.

I can hear someone chuckle near me.

"Wakey wakey, sunshine."

It's Potter, Harry, that fucker.

Seeing as how I'm beat up and he's laughing, something happened. Somehow this happened last night, but I can't put my finger on it-

Oh. That.

The ten minutes of Harry's heaven and my hell, that's what happened.

I can remember everything in a moment, the memories flashing by my eyes. I spit again onto the floor, and lean halfway to a sitting position.

"I could have choked on my own blood you idiot." my voice barely rasps out loud, and breathing is causing me enough pain to begin with. Lovely.

"You did for a while last night, you stopped breathing. And I, being a gentleman, blew some life back into you and put you on your side so you wouldn't choke again." he responds, and I can practically hear the grin in his voice.

I touch my right hand with my left, and feel each finger violently swollen and each joint more painful to touch than the next. They feel bloated and cold to the touch, and then I realize that my teeth are chattering too. I force my eyes open and squint at him against the sunlight, not a mar to his face.

Bastard.

"I'm freezing." I moan, and he smiles wider.

"I know. You've been shivering like mad, it was brilliant."

I try to sit up straighter, but the edges of my vision blur to black and I wind up lying down again, vertigo of the highest degree overwhelming my brain.

"You're a bastard, an outright fucking bastard, you know that?" I whisper to him, the pain emanating from everywhere on me making my eyes water, so that I close them.

"You're all that and more. You're a rapist."

"So are you." I whisper back.

And all I get is silence.

"I suppose we're even then, huh?" he whispers back at long length.

"Only in our own fucked up minds."

"That's all that matters to me. Our rules are the only ones I follow anymore anyway. And it doesn't count when you like it." He says this last bit with a smile in his voice, and something in me knows that he's right. A little spark in me likes it. Fuck.

"That doesn't make this right."

He laughs at that, the sound is too loud and it hurts my ears. It grates at them forever until he loses breath and stops.

"Not in anyone else's right mind is anything we do right. Everything that we do is wrong Draco, that's the fun of it. We're terrible, awful, evil and sadistic people to each other so that we can act like upstanding citizens to everyone else. That's the point."

I cough, the sting of it within my throat making my eyes leak; the tears are swept away by gentle fingers that softly graze my forehead.

"But even then we have to own up to what we do. Let's get you cleaned up, you look a fucking mess."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I hate to admit that everything about Harry is so good that it's bad. He can beat me and fuck me but by god he'll clean me up in the morning. There's an odd sense of having to pay for what we do to each other, and this is his way of showing it I suppose.

He had to carry me down four flights of stairs to get to the private Slytherin showers, a place he's never known. I give him vague directions the entire time, barely remembering the password once we're there. My mind is damaged; that I know. It can't be that bad if I understand that it's hurt, right?

"Draco? Look at my face and tell me where you are right now."

Where… Harry's here. There's a smear of blood on his face, I can see it. He's scared, or maybe angry… who knows, they both look the same on him.

"Draco? Answer me!"

"I'm… here." I glance around, the gray tiles and shining silver faucets awakening a memory. "I'm in the bathroom with you. A bathroom. A shower."

He shakes his head at me, and I can feel his hands undoing the buttons of my shirt. He mutters an incantation to get the solitary shower stall behind him started pumping hot water. My shirt won't come off, it hurts too much to lift my arms and why doesn't he stop trying to-

"Draco! _Tell_ me what's wrong, don't _scream_!"

"My arms hurt!" I yell back, my head pounding with the loud sounds that reverberate in the room. It's too tiring, my head hurts and-

"Why…stop crying, will you? Just tell me what to do and… oh fuck this."

Harry stands up and leaves, his footsteps echoing along the wet tile. I didn't know that I was crying, I didn't want to be. Everything hurts, can't he see that? I can't talk right, I'm too tired. Thought is easier, I don't need him anyway. He comes back wrapped only in a towel, his hands pushing me back down to sitting. I can get up by myself, I can if I just…

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Draco, stop trying to get up. You can't. Just let me do it, alright?"

I _hate_ babying people, and I _loathe_ taking care of Draco. But he's in the odd sort of helplessness that would raise questions if anyone else had to take care of him, so I have to do it instead. Great.

It takes seemingly forever just to get his shirt off, then another few ages to get off his trousers. Boxers are easier, getting him to sit still without falling off the shower's bench is much harder. I can't believe that I have him completely vulnerable and naked with me, naked, in a shower stall and not a single sexual thought is even entertained by my mind. This is the kind of thing that I am loathe to admit I dream of. But this dream in particular must wait for another day.

"Draco, open your eyes." I mumble, and he complies for a moment before sealing them shut again, water pouring in rivets through his hair and down his face. The water at my feet is swirling with blood, the rust colour of it reminding me of that day…The scars on my arms might be fading but my memory is still sharp.

I have to shake out those thoughts for a moment to grab the shampoo from the shower ledge, massaging it through Draco's baby fine hair, he hissing when it hits the cuts on his face from last night. The cut on his cheek is only a thin red line now, accented by the bloated blue and green bruising along his jaw. Both of his eyes have bloomed black, his nose a little more flat and a little less pointed than I remember it. His ribs are bruised worse still, purple seeping around their edges. Raw scrapes from the stone floor abound on his hips, how they got there I don't quite remember. Knees, palms, elbows, all rubbed raw. Even the back of his head is enflamed with goose eggs beneath his hair. It astounds me that I could manage all that within a ten minute span, but I could have been worse. I could have hit him with that paperweight instead of missing him, I could have kicked him more in the head than in the ribs.

I could have killed him.

My hands are shaking when I start to rinse his hair, but his eyes stay closed and his breathing remains slow and deep. He doesn't notice me biting my lip, or my eyes tearing up.

I could have killed him. Ha ha. I win the game, this game. I'm the winner, you're the loser.

He could be irreversibly gone, forever.

I'd having nothing to talk to, no-one worth fighting, nobody to fuck.

I'd be alone again.

"Oh gods Draco, I'm sorry." I whisper, his eyes opening finally and slowly moving up from my torso to my face. My hands are still shaking on the sides of his head and I slide them over his smooth skin to his shoulders and hold myself steady there, kneeling at his level while the water still rushed around us. His eyes are as they always were, I couldn't taint them. I stare at the tiles instead of his eyes; I already know the shade of grey they are.

"For what?" he asks, his own left hand pushing me away, the other too swollen to be of any use. His voice is thick and slurred. He's slow, but he's still faster than me. Damnit.

"I went…too far. I'm sorry alright, can't you just accept that? Do you realize how little I want to apologize to a pampered, bitchy ass like yours?"

He shakes his head slowly back and forth and wags a finger at me. "Nothing's too far unless the person being dared says so. And then they lose. And I never, once, said stop. It was my dare and I did it so stop going so fucking…soft on me now. Shut up and accept that you're a very, very angry person."

His gray eyes gloss over before his head droops back to hit the tile wall behind it, but my hand softens the fall. No need to cause any more brain damage than what has already been suffered, right?

I step out of the steamy shower to grab a bar of soap and a washcloth, returning to scrub away the dried blood from his face and down. I decide to take my time, being soft and gentle as though Draco's a newborn, too fragile to even touch. By the time I'm almost done at his toes his thick voice comes through again.

"Truth or dare Harry?"

A smile fights its way across my lips, and I continue to wash him up as I contemplate it.

"Dare."

He coughs a laugh, smiling wider than even I could have mustered.

"Fucking idiot. Gryffindor pride and all that shit. You think that'll be any easier than a truth since last time?"

"Anything's better than that." I reply, finishing at Draco's toes and shutting off the water, steam hanging thickly along the walls as I turn and retrieve two massive towels to begin drying with.

"I'll be making you wish that you could spill your innermost secrets rather than what I'm going to make you do. Don't go all soft on me now Harry, the games only just begun."

That ice and venom behind the words he whispers to me makes me shiver straight down my spine, but Draco conveniently passes out into my arms and doesn't notice. Thank god for something in my day going right. I wrap him in the towel, dry myself off until I'm at least decently mopped up enough to throw on the same dirty clothes as last night, and then head out.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I'm not thinking about the stares I'll receive if Madam Pomphrey sees me carrying Draco bruised, battered, and wrapped only in a towel into our room. I'm not thinking about how we'll explain away the damage, and I don't care to know why Draco still wants in to the game._

_I'm wondering what in the fuck he's planning to do to me in the next week._

"_I've just bought a one way ticket to hell."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Alrightly, I hope you can all breath deep now knowing that Draco's just dandy...Thanks to:

**Jimbocous,** **Megalicious Moony, ****Lethe Albion,** **ravendreamer04,** **deessedumer,** **Juila,** **nickainai,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan,** **Lanfear1,** **Lyra Skywalker,** **xxBrokenxxAngelxx,** **brionyjae,** **sigillum, mysteriorum13,** **Vampire Louis,** **coolmarauders,** **DarkClaz,** **MimiTaylor,** **BrokenToes, **& **JadeLilyMalfoy**!

Phew! Try saying all that in one breath!

Please keep the reviews coming (I love and read every one!)

luv,

mintapotter


	23. Maybe This Is Danger

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **Thank you for all the lovely reviews, I quite enjoyed reading through them this week. (Lyrics for the chap. name are still from 'Tear You Apart'.)

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 23 - Maybe This Is Danger

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Oh, begin the week of Draco's revenge._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It's a fresh, bright day in the world. Dew is evaporating on the grass, students are laughing over pumpkin juice and the morning paper. My friends laugh and talk about nothing over and over because they haven't anything real to complete a conversation with.

This old, boring, happy routine is half the reason I went crazy at the beginning of the year. I, personally, need a little drama to get through any of my classes. A threat by Voldemort on my life always breaks the monotony nicely, but so far he's been laying low. I need something, anything, to help me make it through classes. Most especially double Potions.

And while I'm taking a seat between Hermione and Ron, the drama waltzed into the room.

Draco never lost his touch on how to make an entrance.

Firstly, as far as we both know, my fucked up subconscious has become overly fond of him and won't let him speak to any one but me. So he being in a classroom doesn't make much sense; writing words in the air isn't a very fast or easy way of answering a professors question.

Secondly, he never once told anyone that he fancied coming back into classes so soon after I decided to. Nobody missed him quite as they missed me; his friends have much better things to do with their time than _care_.

And thirdly, there is no fucking way that he can explain away all the bruising that's blossoming quite gracefully over his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, may I inquire as what has happened to you?"

Snape's voice penetrates the complete and utter silence of the dungeon classroom, even the normally gossiping girls have shut up at the sight of his face. I must admit that my handiwork is nothing less than spectacular; his black eyes really do make the grey of his iris' pop. Amazing.

"_I fell down some stairs."_

He writes this in his carefully crafted script with his wand into the air, the words slowly fading to nothing above him. He doesn't once glance at me, although Snape's doing a fine job of staring in my direction.

"You do realize that I was not born yesterday Draco. If you wish to tell me exactly who the perpetrator was out of class-"

"_No, really. I was being clumsy and fell down some stairs. _

_And into a wall."_

This ingenious reply gets a few laughs from both sides of the classroom. Snape's face is livid; he knows that it was me. He wants to get me expelled so, so, so badly and he just can't because Draco won't play along. This is marvelous.

"Draco, there is no need for such foolish games. I must report this to Madam Pomphrey at once."

He shrugs, setting his schoolbag on the floor beside his table and assorting his quills. He's making no sign that he's about to move out of the classroom any time soon. His right hand is bandaged still; I did it up for him yesterday after sneaking into the Infirmary. Under some act of god Pomphrey only checked on us once, while Draco was passed out in the bathroom. So no-one but us knows that he was hurt the night before last, no-one saw me do it. It's our dirty, dirty little secret and we're keeping it.

Snape stares at me for a moment before turning to the blackboard and furiously writing the instructions for our potion of the day on it. I can feel the looks of the entire classes eyes on me, prickling at the back of my neck. Hermione gazes at the board blankly; she can't muster up the will to turn and even look at me. Ron however is still on a rampage about how I've changed and blah-fuckity-blah, so he turns to hiss at me.

"Was that you Harry? You've always fought with him but…that's not like you Harry. That's too far and-"

"No comment Ron. And who are you to blame me for anything? He hates me Ron, he'd tell in an instant. If it was me that did all that, what would stop him from telling Snape and getting me expelled?"

Ron and I share a glare that lasts far longer than the one I received from Snape earlier. I can tell that he's thinking back to that day when Draco and I were caught by all of them sleeping in the same bed, and how we never explained ourselves. He thinks that maybe we're in love and he won't tell on me for it. He's thinking that maybe we broke up and this is the aftermath.

I smile and turn away to begin scribbling the notes, my hearting leaping in jumps and bounds.

Ah, the refreshing start to a truly exciting day.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Harry. I've come up with a dare for you."

Draco slumps against a wall with far less composure than he's managed to muster all day. Only when he is completely alone, and unaware of me watching him, does he sigh or take a moment to catch his breath. No-one asks him about the bruises, the bandages, the scrapes. He doesn't admit that they are there even though he's in pain every waking moment. But in this moment, just the two of us in an unused classroom while everyone else is at supper, this is when he'll let down his guard.

He, after all, is the one doling out the dare.

"For the next week Harry, you are to do every single thing I tell you to do. No questions asked, no hesitation, no complaining. Until this day next week you are my servant."

I nod my head in comprehension and he smiles at this, the movement stretching and breaking the cut down his lip. He sucks on it in a very, very seductive manner but doesn't do anything else. I want to reach out and kiss him so that it hurts him, I'll make it sting. I want to taste him blood in my mouth, but when I step forward to do just this he wags his finger _'no'_ at me and I have to stop.

This is going to be ridiculously hard.

"First thing I'm going to ask you to do is to bring me to Gryffindor tower and fetch me your lovely invisibility cloak. Let's go."

"I left it in your room. All that time ago, before…"

"Before you slashed yourself up in the showers? Yes, you did leave it in my room but when the house-elves collected all of our things to bring to the Infirmary, they put it back with your stuff. And now that you're in Gryffindor…do the math Harry. Don't pretend to be so fucking retarded as to not do something I tell you to. So now, bring me to get your cloak."

I turn and leave, hear him walking slowly behind me. I can envision the smirk on his face without having to turn around and see it. I walk right past the Great Hall with him on my heels even though I'm so hungry I could eat a cow. I walk all the way up to Gryffindor tower while ignoring him, turning only at the last minute to face him.

He's smiling again.

"Now tell me the password."

There is no time for me to contemplate lying to him. That would bring unpleasant consequences that I don't want to face.

"Adflictatio." I murmur this with some regret. It's not that I'm feeling traitorous to the Gryffindor's, more that I'm scared of what Draco can plan with access to my living space. Shit, shit, shit.

"Mmm, adflictatio, that rolls off the tongue beautifully."

At Draco's words the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, allowing him for the first time into a realm that I had always before considered Draco Malfoy free.

"So, where are your rooms?"

I motion to the stairwell leading to our shared dormitory, my bed and trunk painfully obvious right off the bat in when we enter the room. My bed is covered with all my shirts and trousers that I am yet to put away properly and Draco instantly recognizes them, he stalking around the bed's edges before motioning to me to find the cloak. I begin digging through my trunk while ignoring something that he's saying when his foot connects quite painfully with my ribs.

"What?"

"I asked which bed was the Weasel's?" He manages to glare at me as though I've committed a felony for not responding to him. I'm starting to realize that the next week will be more difficult than I first suspected.

"His is right beside mine, to the right. Dean's is on the left, then Seamus and Neville and –"

Another kick, to the same spot. It takes all my effort to not get up, throw Draco's stupid frame to the bed and knock the shit out of him for kicking me around. But I say nothing, do nothing. I wait.

"I only asked you for one thing Harry. Do please tell me that you understand such a simple request?"

"I do."

"Good. Then next time you won't anger me by talking about shit I didn't ask about. And it's about bloody time you found me that cloak."

I search a little too frantically for it, handing it to him before he can slide in another kick. His patented cheshire cat smile spreads when he slides his fingers over it, he finally rising off my bed to stand and admire the fabric.

"I want all this stuff," he motions to the mess on my bed still, "gone. Now. I hate when people are messy."

I begin to clean and put away things, but he's already leaving the room.

"I'd appreciate if you fetched my breakfast for me in the morning. I'd like it by eight at the latest, in front of the doors to my common room. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind writing up my Transfiguration essay for tomorrow either, you'll have to charm your writing to look like mine. I'll accept nothing less than outstanding on it Harry, so do let the Mudblood help you on it. Oh and before I forget," at this last comment his voice drops, "tell the Weasel he's a dirty, poor, useless sack of crap. Tell him he's worthless and you hate him. Tell him all that, but tell him it's from you. I'd like to see the aftereffects of it all over your face tomorrow. Goodnight."

Draco disappears with a swish of the invisibility cloak around his shoulders, just in time for the rest of my dorm to return from supper, all of them wondering where I've been. Dean and Seamus enter only to retrieve a pack of cards for exploding snap, and Neville leaves as soon as he has his hands all over his precious plant.

So, this is how it's going to be. Just Ron and me.

"Harry, you know you have to make it to supper every day, it's mandatory. McGonagall will throw a fit if you got into any trouble when you weren't there…why aren't you talking mate?"

Ron's look of simple misunderstanding is so…childlike that it seems wrong to rip a strip out of him. He may know that I'm faking the happy normality, but he's still optimistic somewhere, deep down inside that I'll return to the Harry I once was. The Harry I used to be.

Poor, poor Ron, having to listen to the things I'm about to dole out to him.

"Harry, why aren't you talking?" he asks this again while folding his Quidditch robes, the room silent except for the gentle rustling of the fabric as he lays it out for practice later on.

A thousand separate insults push to the front of my mind, the sheer number and diversity of them a little sad. The fact that I could be Ron's friend for all these long years and still be able to think up vile, derogatory things to sling at him seems a little odd, a little sadistic.

I pick the first one that comes to mind and begin on Draco's dare.

"I don't make a habit of talking to shit Ron, so I don't understand why responding to you would come naturally."

Ron drops the robes slowly and begins to turn as I cringe inwardly because I must now face what I was most dreading. Ron's much bigger than me and has a temper with half the leash on it. Draco wants to see physical evidence that I was bashing Ron up here? He'll have it by tomorrow morning, written all over my face in clear red welts and purple bruises.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Oh, begin the week of Draco's revenge._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **You know how much I love you already, but I'll say it again. I LOVE YOU to:

**JadeLilyMalfoy, ****relaxes,** **ravendreamer04,** **Nfinity Nite Monaghan,** **Julia, ****DarkClaz,** **Vespalady,** **MimiTaylor,** **Lyra Skywalker,** **nickainai,** **xxBrokenxxAngelxx,** & **brionyjae**! (Imagine all the things Draco can make Harry do for a whole week...this has many, many options...)

In an act of shameless self promotion, I've got a forum going called "Best & Worst of HPDM Fanfiction", so drop a line in there if you so wish. And apart from that, just keep reviewing and lots of luv,

mintapotter


	24. Tied Up Too Tight

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **The title from this weeks chap. is the (quite fitting) 'Tied Up Too Tight' by Hard Fi.

Anyway, Enjoy this!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 24 -Tied Up Too Tight

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_The Weasels eyes flickered to almost opening for a second, and in the moment before he turned to face the bed where Harry and I still lay I could hear the very breath knocked out of Harry._

"_Gotcha." Was all I whispered._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The punishment was not as bad as it could be.

Sure, there was the fight with Ron which spread in notoriety throughout the school within the hour of it happening. My _'happy'_ Harry image vanished along with some of the nastier things I thought up to say to him, and it took the support of my housemates with it. Apprently the words _'worthless, blood traitor, fuck-up, poor, useless, piece of shit'_ and _'cunt' _shouldn't be used all in one bout with Ron. I now had only Draco as a contact, a person with whom I spoke no more than two or three words to in a day. He was all I had left at the school.

So Draco actually was hurting me without hurting me, in a way. The Gryffindor's hated me for hating Ron, and not a single one of them had told McGonagall who had beaten me up when I had ended up in the hospital wing. The fact that all of their loyalty and house pride was now forced against me hurt, but not as badly as it would have a year ago. The bruising to my face was much worse than that to my ego.

Draco's other tasks were annoying and difficult for the most part, none very publicly humiliating however. I fetched and left him his meals, wrote his homework and essays, occasionally spat something nasty in the way of Ron or Hermione, but never anything worse than that.

I was waiting with baited breath for the awful things that Draco was just waiting to make me do, but they never seemed to come. With all the power over me that he had over me he never did anything _awful_. It was hard, but not _punishing_.

So, the last day of his control over me I was expecting all the vengeance at once. I was expecting torture.

And he did nothing.

He didn't acknowledge me. He didn't say one word to me all day, didn't glance, didn't ask me to do _anything_ for him. He ignored me completely, as though I was nothing more than a speck on the ground.

It was

driving

me

insane.

I could hardly concentrate on my own potions essay enough to put one word on the page, I couldn't think of what hedgewood and juniper did together when mixed, I couldn't remember the incantation for transfiguring a quill into a knife for Merlin's sake! I was a mess.

Draco was making me a mess by not doing _anything_. I would kill him, first chance I got.

So in the silence of the dormitory at night, I thought I was safe. I thought that the game was over and Draco was simply too soft-hearted to have done anything terrible to me. I thought that maybe all he had wanted from my service to him was a week free of homework.

I let my guard down.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

He slipped in sometime after dark, when Neville's snores became so loud that the creaking of the dormitory door was almost lost to me. Almost.

I sat up and waited to see somebody, anybody, anything. I could hear the soft footsteps cross the room, the rustle of someone's pajamas as they walked closer and closer to me but I could see nothing. The light whisper of an incantation made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but I couldn't see or feel a spell whirling at me. I could feel the tinge of fear when a weight dropped onto my bed, the thing moving towards me slowly, achingly slowly.

And then I could feel an achingly soft kiss on my lips and I could let a small portion of my fear drizzle away.

Of course. Draco had taken my Invisibility cloak and it was almost time that he'd have to give it back to me. At midnight, he would no longer have any power over me. It would be my turn.

"Have you missed that much, Harry?" his voice was lower than a whisper, his hands finally removing the Invisibility cloak from his shoulders and letting it fall into a heap by the side of my bed.

"More than you'd believe." I whispered back, happy to think that maybe this was all the punishment had been really; a lack of sex for a week. Perhaps my prize was to slip out of the dormitory and-

Draco was rummaging through my trunk with less care than I thought he should be taking before straddling me again and pulling two of my silk Gryffindor scarves through his sleek fingers.

_He wouldn't risk it._

"What do you think that you're doing?" I whispered frantically, my eyes never leaving the gold and scarlet scarves. Draco's eyes narrowed at my display of non-obedience and leant down into my neck to pinch a bit of the skin between his sharp teeth before pulling back up.

"Don't speak, until spoken to." Draco admonished after pulling back up, raising one of the scarves between his hands and pulling my own right hand up to tie it to my bedpost.

I thought in that moment that I might die of humiliation for all the things that he could do to me.

"That's much better of you, now isn't it?" he whispered into my ear, tying my left hand in the same way, tightly to the bedpost. I could feel my heart pumping blood all throughout my body, the pulse of it speeding up and away to new heights.

"Draco…may I please say something?" my voice came out much more strained than I meant it to, seeing as how his delicate mouth was currently busying itself on my neck. He pulled away again, looking only slightly less amused than the last time I had spoken out of turn.

"What is it?"

"I don't know if you need reminding but we're in the middle of the boy's dormitories in Gryffindor, and Dean's bed is right beside us, and Ron's has the fucking drapes open, as does mine! If they wake up Draco-"

"They'll wonder how the fuck you let yourself get into this situation, and how I got in here. And they're much surer to wake up if you keep on talking so fucking loudly. And don't you think that I already thought of that Harry? Do you think me stupid?"

Draco hissed those last words before a devilish grin spread across his face. His hands wandered as if on their own accord to the waistband of my pajama bottoms, his mouth still working its way down my neck and chest. Fingers with nails that grazed skin and stung brought my boxers down with them, and in a moment I was half naked for the world to see.

Great.

His grey eyes sparkled with mischievousness and revenge, the pale skin of his face no longer marred by ugly bruises or scars. He had forced me within a day to heal them for him, so he was again as intact and beautiful as ever. The hand that had been shattered by the paperweight I had thrown upon it last week was healed now too, and it rested on my heart, feeling the fast beat and the feat that was causing it.

Draco smiled.

"Scared, are we?" He said, pulling his own shirt over his head and allowing me a moment to try and console myself that if we were both very quiet, perhaps no-one else would wake up. Maybe we'd be lucky and no-one would see me, or him, in our very compromising position.

I opened my eyes to see that Draco had wasted no time and by now completely free of all his clothes. He nipped at my collarbones just to make me gasp, and sank its teeth into the skin on my neck because he knew that it hurt. He was _enjoying_ this, and I was damn near close to having a heart attack.

I would rip him apart as soon as his control over me ended. He would pay for this like nothing before.

"Close your eyes, and don't open them again until I say so."

But for now, I must comply. Those were the rules of the game, so I followed them. I could feel a brief moment of no contact with Draco's body before his glorious mouth was once again on my rapidly hardening cock.

With my eyes closed, I could almost enjoy the moment. I had a fraction of a second where I forgot that I was in the Gryffindor tower, in a bed with the drapes open, with Draco Malfoy sucking me off.

And then Seamus coughed.

My eyes wanted to shoot open, but I had enough sense to keep them closed. Sweat that a second ago was hot on my skin cooled along with my rising level of fear. Draco's mouth left me for a moment at the sound, and then his low, half hidden laugh was in my ears.

"Perhaps we should hurry up before he wakes up then, shouldn't we?"

I bit the inside of my lip to keep from crying with relief, that no, we hadn't been caught. But we would, I could feel it coming. I wanted this to end, quickly.

"Yes, let's please hurry Draco. For both of our safeties."

"I intend to take my time Harry, seeing as how I did nothing to you all fucking week. And open your eyes now. I like to see you so fucking terrified of not controlling a single thing."

I complied, and only moments later wished that I really hadn't. Draco pushed into me without warning or preparation, and I gasped because I couldn't help it. Pain wasn't something I could control yet, like my emotions. I knew that he had seen the flash of hurt in my eyes, and that was enough in itself to make me want to rip him apart. I wanted to reach up and gouge out his sparklingly clear eyes. But then his tongue was in my mouth and his fingers were tracing the outlines of the scarring of his initials in my skin and I didn't have time to think or plot or hate. Because for all I was scared, and hated him and the thought of getting caught, I _liked_ this, or else I wouldn't be here.

It just felt so _good_.

"Harry," Draco whispered this breathlessly minutes after I had finally regained some semblance of my composure, his eyes staring into mine, "do you like this?"

"Yes." I whispered this without thought, wishing that I could take it back. Saying anything else would have been a lie, but I should have hidden my feelings better. I shouldn't have been caught so fucking off guard. And I was gasping, of all things. I had to hold my breath to steady its erratic pace, but the gesture only made Draco push harder and make me gasp louder in the end. I wasn't winning this way.

"Tell me that you love it when I fuck you."

"I do." I whispered again, not caring that this was against everything I would normally tell him.

"And you love every second of this, because of me?"

"Yes." I groaned out this word, my composure breaking. Keeping my voice at a whisper was becoming taxing as the friction between Draco and I increased.

"Tell me louder."

"Yes." I said this barely above a whisper, not quite a normal talking voice. Draco's own voice was quieter than mine had been however, although his was much more breathless.

"Louder." He commanded, his nails digging half-moons into my shoulders through the thin fabric of my raunched up t-shirt. I swallowed deeply, and complied.

"Yes." I groaned this louder this time, but still cautiously. I glanced to the right to check that yes, Ron was indeed still asleep. Such miracles were rare and far in-between.

"Yell it Harry."

I needed a longer moment this time to think it though. The rules of the game were clear however; if I wanted to end to the dare than I could, it would mean losing all contact with Draco. And at moments like these, when we were both so close, I couldn't imagine that.

"_Yes."_ I almost yelled this, surprising myself at the ferocity of my own voice. Draco half chuckled into my shoulder before the sound turning into a low moan. I knew that he was just as close as I was, albeit less sore.

But he was a sick prick, and he didn't stop.

"I'm going to make you come Harry and when I do, you're going to moan much louder than that. You're going to scream. And if you don't, then you've lost the dare, and the entire game."

A silent bit of Draco was almost pleading with me to not forfeit, to not be silent. He didn't want this to end any more than I did, and he only had to wait a moment longer to find out whether or not that I wanted to stay in the game that bad.

So I let go of all pretenses to self control, and I screamed.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The simple low growling sound that Harry made was almost enough to make me lose it. On one hand it was irresistibly hot, and on the other it wasn't enough. He wasn't going to go all the way.

And then he let everything go, and I smiled inwardly before coming into him, knowing that he was all mine. He would face humiliation before giving me up.

He was _loving_ this.

We both took a long moment afterwards, chests heaving, my body a dead weight on top of his. The nights chill finally started to creep up along by back, but I was too far gone to care. I had a wonderfully warm thing below me that I owned, his heart and soul.

"Draco, it's after twelve. I'm not yours anymore."

_Not under the dare you're not, but you're mine anyway. _

I sighed and pulled out and away from him, dragging the top blanket of the bed around me to wrap myself in and leaving him tied to the bedposts, still sweating and breathing madly.

And in the moment that I was going to say something back, Ron Weasley sat up in bed.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_The Weasels eyes flickered a second, and in the moment before he turned to face the bed where Harry and I still lay I could hear the very breath knocked out of Harry._

"_Gotcha." Was all I whispered._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **And yes, thank YOU the reviewers for making my life a happy, happy place:

**doralinda, loVsicK, JadeLilyMalfoy, nickainai, Tai Anime, twisted, mem, brionyjae, Julia, Nfinity Nite Monaghan, eiramalyak , DarkClaz, MimiTaylor, xxBrokenxxAngelxx,** &** bananagirl** !

So, keep reviewing! I love an inbox overflowing with them, so don't stop now!

Till next time

mintapotter


	25. Here Comes the Break of the Day

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **Just enjoy it and tell me what you thought! And the chapter title is from the song "End of May" by Keren Ann. Creepy and pretty song, but that's against the point.

Read on...

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 25 - Here Comes the Break of the Day

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_But…now that I'd lost everything else, all I had was Harry, really._

_So, he couldn't be anyone else's savior in the state of mind he was in._

_Nothing said that he couldn't be mine, sometime._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

A complete physical and mental shutdown occurred when Ron turned towards Draco and me in bed.

I thought that Draco was a damn prick for wrapping himself in a blanket and leaving me so exposed.

I thought that Ron would probably make a few Galleons if he sold the rights to the picture of us to the Daily Prophet.

I thought that it was my turn to give Draco a truth or dare.

But I didn't move, or make a sound other and let all the air out of my body in one, low stream.

"Gotcha." Was all Draco whispered, he not moving and inch in the moment.

And then Ron did something altogether odd.

He blinked once at us, turned his head to look out the other side of his curtains, and then lay back down, rolled over and promptly fell back asleep.

I realized soon enough that I had not breathed in that minute, and vaguely registered that Draco's perpetually cold fingers were untying my wrists from the bedposts.

I closed my eyes and waited for life to go back to normal.

"You can breathe again normally, you idiot. The Weasel's asleep, and he didn't see a thing, so stop acting like the worlds falling in around you." Draco's words didn't pretend to be caring; they were eloquent and blunt at the same time.

"What?"

He smiled at me then, feral, as a cat would at a plump mouse. "I cast a charm on the bed when I walked in, you dolt. From the outside it looks like the curtains are closed, but from the inside you can see out. And a mild soundproofing charm as well, as I knew that you'd comply with everything I told you to do. You're so easy to control."

I ground my teeth and counted backwards from ten to keep from strangling him in that moment.

"You couldn't seriously have thought that I'd let all of Gryffindor catch us at it, did you? I'd never be so fucking stupid. No, wait, you're just thick enough to have entertained that thought! I give you far too much credit in understanding simple things, Harry. How silly of me."

I sat up slowly and pulled the sheet around me, gathering what was left of my self control over my rage, and breathed deep again.

I would not, kill him. I wouldn't hurt him.

Yet.

"It's my turn Draco. Truth or dare?"

He stretched out towards the end of the bed, in the darkness nearly disappearing into the shadows before my eyes.

"I think that a truth will do, this time."

I laughed, and caught myself when Ron gave a jerk in his bed. The soundproofing charm was mild, not impenetrable.

"Oh, I suppose I have to let you talk to other people so that you can do that one, right? It may have been my subconscious keeping your voice all to myself, but since this will benefit me…I think I'll let you talk properly tomorrow." A smile flitted back onto Draco's face at these words, but I was ready to wipe it back off. "Oh, you'll hate what I have in store for you. You've already told me what you'd never, _never_, let happen to you. And now you've given me the power to make you do it."

The sly smile slid off Draco's face like rain on a windowpane. He tilted his head to the side instead, making his infuriatingly perfect hair fall with it.

"And what's that?"

I licked my lips, tasting sweat and something akin to victory.

"Getting caught."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Showers, a quick change of clothes, the brushing of my teeth and hair…even simple things were making me smile today.

That same smile was the one that scared a second year into running out of the common room with a look of horror on his face, but no matter. I never said that my smile was particularly pleasant, or comforting. I was happy. No, I was _jubilant._

Today was Draco's big day. The truth I had set him would only take a day to complete, and for every day he delayed I would cut an inch off his hair. The look on his face when he had heard that last was worth all the suffering I had endured in the moments last night that I thought Ron had really caught us.

The thing was that I didn't mind everyone in the school, or the wizarding world knowing that I was fucking around with Draco. I just needed to tell them on my own terms. Nobody liked me all that much anymore; Ron shot dirty looks and Hermione furtive glances whenever we shared a class or passed in the halls. I ate in the Great Hall in near silence, and spent classes taking notes and handing in homework.

Draco was my fun now, my little game. He let me vent my anger into one thing, so that I didn't hex Ron whenever he turned his back, or blow up the Potions lab every time Snape made a comment edgewise about Sirius. I would calm down all that fucked up, demented anger by thinking that later, Draco would pay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but give me a week and he'd be my figurative punching bag.

I stepped into the Great Hall in the morning with a spring in my step, and by Merlin I was _humming_. I would watch Draco all day, until the moment when he chose to reveal our dark, dirty little secret.

So I watched his every step in and out of the Great Hall. I wasn't the only one staring when he said "Good morning" out loud to his classmates for the first time in weeks. I watched him write a letter to his remaining parent, explaining that he was well and that he could talk again, out loud. I watched him joke with his mates through Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, and lunch. He was infuriating; he wasn't sweating or stammering over his words. He seemed cool on the outside, even though I knew that his insides were roiling over the fact that by the end of the day today, everyone would know about us or one precious inch of his beautiful hair would be lost forever.

A shame at losing that hair.

So by Potions last period, I was as near ecstatic as my brain would allow me to be. Draco didn't copy down the notes on the board, or pick up the proper ingredients the first time. Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent and Pansy all noticed that he was distracted. Draco was the epitome of perfection to them; he simply always did well in Potions. It was his thing, and they all knew that something was putting a thorn in his side.

In the quiet din of the dungeon, I could hear their muttered conversation clearly. I was near giggling when Draco added mint instead of yew, and had to begin all over again.

"Draco, whatever has gotten into you? You seem so…off today."

That simpering question was posed by Millicent. Draco huffed but ignored her.

"Is something wrong? All of Slytherin's noticed, you know. You can't go on hiding it forever. You've returned with all sorts of bruises and scrapes and… well, that time you spent with Potter in the Infirmary wasn't kind to you."

"What could I possibly be hiding from all of you?" Draco hissed back, but all he was doing was stalling time.

Here it came.

"Well, perhaps your Mother…" that gem came from Pansy.

"We know that your Transfigurations mark wasn't great, but that shouldn't be it…" Goyle managing to string together that many words at a time astonished me, but I kept silent at my table and concentrated on stirring the potion exactly twenty seven times.

A silence followed Goyle's comment, until Draco's voice finally broke through.

"Well, I could be fucking around with Harry Potter on a regular basis, but that would just be too far fetched, wouldn't it? I mean, getting caught would probably cause me to be thrown out of the family, and all sorts of other nasty consequences. That would just be incredibly stupid of me, right?"

B-i-n-g-o.

I chanced a glance Draco's way and saw that his skin was indeed a sickly pale colour, his face looking as though he was barely holding back the urge to vomit.

Oh, what I wouldn't give for a camera in that moment.

More silence permeated the air from that section of the Slytherin room, other students noticing quickly that the four Slytherin's were no longer even pretending to brew the potion. Blaise Zabini leaned over his table and gave Pansy a questioning glare, but all she seemed able to do was stare at Draco in mild disbelief. Then she turned and I could feel her stare on my face, but I didn't react.

"You are…actually…kidding…right? This is a joke? Right?"

I didn't dare a look now, but I knew that Draco was shaking his head at this.

I had won.

I had nothing left to lose. No family to be kicked out of, no true friends to cut ties with. My House already hated me, and I frankly no longer gave a fuck what the general public thought. They hadn't done me any fat lot of good lately, had they?

But Draco…he was a whole other game. He was _Draco_, and the last living descendant of both the Black and Malfoy lines. He was a Slytherin, the prince of them in fact. He was a pureblood. His father was a…had been a Death Eater, for fucks sakes. He had everything in the world to lose by letting people know that he and I knew a lot more about each other than we should.

And I had made him give that all up over me, so I held a card over his head.

He was stupid enough to care more about me than I could ever care for him. He wanted to keep me around, even if it meant that he lost all else. This twisted game was worth the loss of friends and family to him.

I won.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_"Draco. What have you _done_?"_

My Mothers incredulous voice floated up to me through a regular letter only charmed to speak her voice and tone, and not a Howler.

I almost wished for a Howler because that was impersonal and something I could deal with right now. This tone of giving up on my Mothers part was something I wasn't used to, and couldn't deal with. This was all going wrong. Even though I was sitting alone in my private room, I felt like the world was watching me cry over this. I felt naked in front of a sea of staring eyes.

_"I have never been more thankful that your Father is dead than when word reached me that you have let lust blind you into trusting and developing some sham of a relationship with Harry Potter. You have disgraced the Blacks and the Malfoys in one grand sweep, my son. For that, I am deeply ashamed of you._

_Within this letter I have enclosed the formal papers you must sign saying that you voluntarily are forfeiting your rights as the Malfoy and Black lines. As soon as you sign them, you are no longer my son and I will have nothing left to do or say to you._

_Regretfully, goodbye._

_Narcissa Malfoy."_

My hand numbly summoned a quill to it and I signed in seven different places, carefully placed the documents into an envelope and directed a school owl to deliver them to the Ministry of Magic.

I was numb. Gone.

All gone.

What had I left?

I no longer held a spot at the Slytherin table; I sat a distance away from even the first years, at the end of the table. I was a veritable leper among old friends; they turned from me with scorn in the hallways. Gryffindor's whispered that _I_ was the reason that Harry had turned around his behavior so much this year. They were taking him gently back into the fold, believing with all their misguided hearts that I was the sole reason Harry had sliced up his wrists or turned on the Weasel.

And perhaps, I was.

Perhaps, I was the person who had broken Harry's fragile mind, and made him snap. Maybe I was the reason he was evil and sadistic now; oops. I guess I had tainted the majority of the Wizarding world's only chance at a savior.

My bad.

And perhaps, I was the shame of the family, now and forever. If the line somehow continued without me, my grandchildren would only ever hear my name as a warning of what not to do with their lives.

Don't go fucking around with a Gryffindor, a savior.

Don't buy into stupid games as a fucked up form of juvenile dating.

Dating. To date.

Were Harry and I even together? I had hardly seen him, save from the glances we shared across classrooms in the past two days. I wanted badly to dare him something, and he seemed pleased with making me suffer and wait.

After all, the game was still in effect. We only saw each other behind closed doors, during truths and dares. He would not hold my hand in the corridor, or kiss me. He probably never would, because to him I wasn't something worth comforting. I was still a plaything, a bag of flesh usually at hand to be pummeled.

Were we a couple, in the normal sense? Did he care? Would he, had he been in my place, completed that 'truth'? Was I even worth enough of him that he would have told others about me?

Those were questions I didn't want answered. I wanted to eat and joke and take a long bath and sleep. I wanted to beat the living _shit_ out of Harry. I wanted to hurt something, anything, because I was being terribly stupid and it had cost me too much.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_But…now that I'd lost everything else, all I had was Harry, really._

_So, he couldn't be anyone else's savior in the state of mind he was in._

_Nothing said that he couldn't be mine, sometime._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **THANK YOU! To: **silver.emeraud,** **carazyladee,** **Cimmerian Sorceress,** **BrokenToes,** **brionyjae,** **JadeLilyMalfoy,** **DarkClaz,** **Jimbocous,** **Miss.G,** **doralinda,** **Julia,** **nickainai,** **MimiTaylor,** **Vampire Louis, &** **twizted-fate !**

Reviews are the second love of my life, next to actually thinking up and writing my stories, so please don't deprive me of them.

Anyway, TONS of love,

mintapotter


	26. At the Stroke of Midnight

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **I actually wrote this ages ago but it took me a while to get it on here. Anyway, I always say that I love you guys (my reviewers!) but since I'm no longer allowed to individually reply to you all (I had 'Unseen Threads' dismantled because of the individual replies!) I'll just dedicate a chapter to someone who reviews a lot...or at least often.

So, to kick off the tradition, I dedicate this chapter to **brionyjae**, because when have you NOT reviewed one of my stories? Seriously girl, you are nothing if not consistant (and a pleasure to have around)...

And to everyone, please enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 26 - At the Stroke of Midnight

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I have never liked revenge so much as kicking someone when they're already down and bleeding_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Choose, Harry. I can only wait so long, you know."

I watched Harry mull over his options with a kind of dulled rage, compared to what I normally felt for him. Lately I seemed to be getting the worse treatment from everyone, and no-one seemed to remember that it took two people to fuck, not one. Harry slipped under everyones radar, while I was left on display to pick apart on a regular basis.

I had decided that if the world knew that the two of us were…together, Harry would suffer the consequences the same as me.

"Oh, let's try a dare this week. I'm feeling adventurous."

Harry's now infamous smile penetrated to near complete darkness of the tower room, his curiosity plain on his face that he was dying to know what I wanted from him.

"Fine then. Your dare is for the next week, you are going to make the school and world at large believe that you love me."

Harry bit his lip and just _stared_ at me for a long moment before walking over to the parapets at the edge of the tower and peering over them. He seemed ready to jump to an early death before telling anyone that he loved me. Was is really such a hard thing to do?

"That goes against the rules. We can only be together, like this now, when-"

"When we're completing a truth or dare. And this goes right along with the rules so…"

Harry shook his head, his breath coming in faster bursts than normal. He was more scared of this than anything else I had got him to do so far. Funny, that.

"So all week, I have to…walk with you to class, and…eat together? And do homework by the lake and-"

"Make out in inappropriate times and places, and hold hands. All that lovey-dovey stuff that I know that you cherish."

Harry swallowed thickly, returning to his staring over the parapet as though now he really was about to jump.

"Why?"

His voice was a scared, simple whisper, barely making it to my ears over the soft wind blowing through the tower.

"You made me tell people that we were together, if in vague terms. They all know, and for some reason I'm the only who has to pay for it. But you…everyone seems to conveniently forget that you're part of this equation. I do believe that this will be a forcible reminder that you care as much about-"

"This game, Draco. Not you, the game. You're making people believe that I-I love…you. It's two different things, Draco."

"You can't have one without the other. You have to care, even just an inch about me or you would have quit the game long ago. And you have to like the game enough to want to keep playing it with me. You need both of us to get anywhere Harry."

His silence and contemplative stare were among the calmest things I had ever witnessed him doing, and this was the first time in a long time that he looked sane, and normal. He certainly didn't appear able to do everything that he had in our past.

He looked serene, stable, _normal_. In this small moment I could easily imagine him being a caring, nice, kind person. I could remember what he was like before this year started, before the death that had broken him.

Before I had broken him.

"If real love is what you want Draco you better look elsewhere than me, because I don't do love. I can't. But I'll try and fake it as believingly as I can for a week, and then you're getting a punishment way worse than what you've got before."

With that grumbling parting threat Harry stalked past me, but his words had long since lost their bite.

He could only pretend so long…

right?

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Good morning Draco. Sleep well last night?"

Never had it been so hard to cross the floor from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherin one, and then sit down beside the blonde git who was currently controlling my life. He looked at me once before grabbing some toast as though me caring about him was the most natural thing in the world.

"Not too bad, I suppose. I forgot to tell you that I'm officially disowned."

He daintily took a bite of his toast and began to ruffle through the daily paper, looking innocently at me for my response. This, was a test.

My very first instinct was to laugh hysterically, point at him, and then laugh some more. Perhaps I'd call him poor and worthless while I was at it. But in reality I had to cock my head to the side and say "Oh, really? When was this?" in a subtly caring tone.

I hoped against hope that everyone could see through my acting and understand that this was fake. I didn't want them to think that I cared. I couldn't care for people anymore, I just couldn't. They could all see that…right?

Apparently not, as more than a few heads were turned in our direction and making faces of mild disgust at both our lovingness. They were lapping it up.

Oh Gods.

"Just the other day. It's not that awful, actually. I just forgot to mention it to anyone, thought that you'd like to know."

This was another goading test, where I was supposed to say something sappy.

"Of course. Thanks for telling me."

Make me vomit now, please.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

At the end of the second day of my 'tender, loving care' of Draco, I was nearing my wits end. There were only so many kind things I could think up at a time and respond to him with, and I seemed to be running out.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" I hissed at him while stroking his hair absently in the library, he settled on the floor beside my chair, perusing a book at his leisure.

"Absolutely. I get to watch you squirm all day, you get treated more and more like shit by the Gryffindor's and buy me some weird immunity against teachers…why is that, by the way?"

I sighed impatiently but decided to reply anyway. These were the first words out of my mouth in two days that were actually truly coming from me.

"The teachers still think that I'm the worlds savior against Voldemort, and they're always looking to help me out, somehow. And the past little while I've being soaring through classes because I actually concentrate once in a while, but pissing off everyone in my outside life. And now they think that I'm falling head over heels for you and they're happy that I'm…happy. So they'll be favoring you for a while too."

I couldn't see it but I knew that Draco was smiling to himself.

"I didn't know that being Harry Potter came with so many perks. I should have dared you this long ago, if just by being around you got people to like me."

I snorted at this and got up to leave, grabbing Draco's book bag from him for good show. Even in the library there were watching eyes, just waiting to see me slip up and let something awful through my lips at Draco. Everyone seemed to just be waiting for me to become harsh to him the same way I had been to Ron.

"It's only a week Draco. This isn't long term." I whispered this low, but he only smirked instead of getting scared.

"So you think, now." He whispered back, taking his book bag from my shoulder and fitting in a quick peck on my lips before departing, alone.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Day five. Life has gone to shit.

Hermione and Ron have both approached me separately and together in the Gryffindor common room, trying to subtly convince me to study with them, or inviting me to come back and eat at the Gryffindor table next breakfast.

They think that I have reformed, in some way. They might still hate Draco, and me for what I did, but they like that I'm apparently being nice to _somebody_, even if it's him.

I've politely refused their company, for the time being. I can't stand being around happy people. It gives me hives.

Even McGonagall and Dumbledore have snuck in not so subtle glances of approval when they watch me carrying Draco's things for him in the halls, or holding his hand between classes.

They all conveniently _don't _notice that I'm squeezing it hard enough to make him wince, but that's no matter.

The world at large now believes that Happy Harry is back, in full force. The think that that episode of me cutting up my arms and being an ass to Ron and Hermione is long gone. They think that though my affection is misguided, at least I'm being kind to somebody out there, and that maybe I'm again sane enough to save them from Voldemort.

Draco's seven day plan will take weeks to unravel, for me to prove that I'm still an ass again.

Damn him to fucking _hell_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Last day of torture is now upon me, and I can almost taste the freedom.

Walking directly to the Slytherin table is now instinctual, but to get there and not have Draco present is a little disconcerting. I flash a glance of question at the other students, but a number of them still won't meet my eyes and most just shrug as though to say 'w_e don't know where he is either.'_

Fucking hell.

As I stalk back out of the Great Hall I notice that McGonagall and Snape are reading something and giving me odd looks, but I don't know what to make of that. Draco's gone; big fucking whoop. He's probably waiting in his dorm for me to carry him to fucking breakfast, the way he's been forcing me lately to treat him like the Queen of England.

The long trudge down to the dungeons is not one that I make often, or willingly. It gets progressively colder, darker and wetter the lower I go, and the only thought in my head is that Draco better accept whatever it is that I make him do next week whole heartedly.

I slip inside his door, and find the room immaculate, as always.

And completely empty.

Oh, this is no fair. I don't have the fucking _time_ or _energy_ to spend racing around the castle all fucking day for Draco. No way in hell does he think that I'm just going to run off to find him in the next best place, because I don't really care where the hell he is-

"Mr. Potter?"

A small voice behind nearly makes me jump, but I turn to see a tiny first year in Slytherin robes and tie staring up at me from Draco's doorway. I wait for him to say something else.

"Madam Pomphrey says that you've been asked for in the Infirmary by Draco Malfoy."

The boy stop looks ready to piss himself when I allow myself a slow, victorious smile. It's probably a demonic one by now, but that's of no consequence to me anymore. I push past him to begin walking all the way back up the castle to find Draco soon. If he's in the Infirmary that means that he's hurt, and if he's still hurting past midnight than I don't even have to be there for him.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I have never liked revenge so much as kicking someone when they're already down and bleeding_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Took me a while to put this chap out but now that it's here, let me thank YOU, yes, YOU for reviewing the last one! (If you review this one, good or bad your name will be on this list too AND I'll read your review with a smile on my face!)

Anyway, thank you to:

**JadeLilyMalfoy,** **Vampire Louis,** **brionyjae,** **Nasyki,** **Julia,** **MimiTaylor,** **LorChris,** **Iric,** **silver.emeraud,** **Rose, ****QtShades,** **Eilonwy-Aire,** **nickainai,** **icy, ****BrokenToes,** &** txcalbud** ! You guys ( and in all probability, mostly girls) rock! Please keep reviewing, it makes typing when I SHOULD be studying for finals really, really worth it. (Well, that and Harry and Draco getting it on but...you know...)

keep reviewing and lots of luv (eh)

mintapotter


	27. At Last

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **Enjoy this, and for those of you reading 'Unseen Threads' it's coming, soon, I promise. As well, THIS IS SLASH! I can't believe that I'm getting flames about that 27 chapters in, but alas, I thought I might as well warn everyone again. Please, no flames about the pairing, it's ridiculous at this point. And this chap goes out to **MimiTaylor**, who's been around a LONG time. Thanx! ('At Last' is a song by Etta James, and that's the title as well.)

PHEW! Anyway, enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 27 - At Last

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I allow the first smirk on my face in over an hour, and pinch his skin tightly, just enough to get him to flinch._

_"Both."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I allow my feet to slide slowly across the last few stairs leading to the Infirmary. Part of my act in caring about Draco forces me to be at his bedside now, but that doesn't mean that I have to get there particularly quickly.

My steps leave an odd echoing sound against the stone of the walls, and I can't help but reminisce about all the good times Draco and I shared while cooped up in here.

Smashing his precious bottle of cologne. Dropping him out a window. First time sex, for the both of us. The instigation of the rules. His falling apart over the death of his father, us getting caught by the teachers. Weeping into the tiles. His bloodied hands from chucking glass, my own white scars…

Oh yes. Pleasant memories, those.

But when I at long last entered the ward, I expected something other than what I got. I expected someone to be screaming, or at least moaning with pain. Preferably Draco, but I couldn't push my luck. I expected kids with Quidditch injuries and headaches to be littering the beds but the entire ward seemed eerily empty of souls, save one.

Draco was impossible to miss because he was the only breathing thing in the room, but it took a close look to even notice him at all. I approached the bed and he made no move to turn and look at me, to see who was coming, but he wasn't asleep. His eyes were wide awake and staring out the window closest to his bed, apparently enthralled by the new green leaves shooting off the trees. His pale lips were parted slightly and his expression was tight with control over his features and at the same time a million miles away.

This was not the sort of 'ill' I had hoped Draco to be.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, at long last! I'd hoped that you'd come sooner, but-" Pomphrey bustled up behind me as she always did and grabbed my arm without a second thought, pulling me away from Draco.

"What's going on here? I thought he was ill, not delirious." My own voice was filled with spite for Pomphrey, but it rang with something else too. I think it came across as _worry_, but that wasn't an emotion I typically used. I'd have to think about what triggered my worry later, not now.

"Well, he just received a rather harsh letter from the Ministry about the death of his Mother-"

"Excuse me?"

Pomphrey told me to shut up with only a look in her eyes, but I decided against bursting out again in the near future.

"Well…, I suppose you must know now that she committed suicide late last night, and left a note for Draco to read, but somehow the Ministry sent him the note before he had been given a proper warning about her death and…his mind hasn't exactly been in top form in the past few months. The ordeal between the two of you, and the loss of his father…I don't think he was at all prepared for this."

I wanted to scoff at her and ask exactly when _was_ the right time for a student to lose a parent? How could he be prepared for this, again? But I had learned that it paid to stay quiet while Pomphrey was talking, and I let her continue and stewed on my own thoughts.

"He hasn't said a word all day, but I thought that with the nature of your relationship with him, you could help him out of this. Just talk to him, Potter. It'd do him a world of good right now."

I turned from her without another word exchanged, and conjured a chair to sit down beside Draco's bed. He still didn't notice me, until I reached out and grabbed for his pathetically frail hand.

He pulled back as though shocked with an electric pulse and stared keenly at me, rather in the glazed way he had been before. But instead of recognition or even anger dawning on his face, it blossomed with some regret and sadness.

"Hello. I knew you'd come round." He mumbled, placing his hands carefully on his bedspread and stroking the worn fabric. "You've not got to stay and pretend to care Harry. In fact, I don't want you to pretend at all, so I'd rather you leave."

There it was again, another nagging emotion I hadn't felt in a long while; care. I didn't care about Draco, never really had, but now it was my duty to fulfill my dare and stay here and _pretend_ to care about him. At midnight I could leave and make him continue the game as though this had never happened.

"It's my dare to make people believe that I am infatuated with you and since you just lost another parent, it's important for me to be here right now, so I am. And I'm staying."

The unspoken words there were _for as long as I have to_ but Draco simply shook his head at me and waved his hands _'no'_.

"That shouldn't be the only reason you're here Harry. Just leave now, I give you permission."

I pulled the chair a little closer, and took up Draco's hand again, only slower this time. I couldn't think up a better reason to stay than the fact that someday, I could bring up this memory of him being so vulnerable and I could probably make him cry over it. Someday.

I stroked Draco's hand softly, as I thought you should with someone in his position and then Draco began to giggle, and then the giggling turned to crying. I didn't know what I ought to do.

"You know that saying, 'All good things come in three's?' I think it's only bad things for me, and I think that this is just the second. First my Father offs himself, and then my Mother and now…" the giggles return again, but they're creepy and terribly depressing since he's laughing while sobbing. "Now, I think the only person left to off themselves that I even give the tiniest shit about is you, and you already tried that once."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, Drake-"

"DON'T CALL ME DRAKE!"

This was probably the point where I should have understood that Draco was not in the right mind, and I should have left. The rest of the night would have preceded without incident, but that's gone and done. I stayed, and let him calm down enough to stop sobbing and yelling to just…talk.

"A drake is a male duck and _I_ am Draco Malfoy. The last one, for your information. Don't baby talk me because you think I'm all fragile because I'm _crying_ because I'm _not._ My eyes just keep doing this and…"

Another long pause, and another awkward silence from me. My entire body has forgotten how to appropriately respond to sad people. Normally, nowadays, I would laugh and point.

This is not the time for such an approach.

"Sorry. Draco. I wasn't trying to kill myself, I was just unstable and doing something stupid, I wasn't thinking, alright? That wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it bloody well was! I was goading you about Sirius Black and then you went crazy and tried to talk to me rationally and I just exploded at you and then you tried to kill yourself. And since I'm the reason that my parents are dead, its only fitting if you tried and succeeded one more time. Then the rule of threes would be complete, you know?"

And then Draco pulls his hand out of my grasp so he can cover his face and properly sob, and I'm realizing that he's so goddamn _fragile_ and I've been throwing him around and bashing him up as though he's made of stone. This poor, pathetic creature in front of me is not made of very stern stuff, but I suppose that that's a reason that I love hitting him so much. It's more fun because he bruises easily.

And then there's that contradictory feeling that's popping up in my head again, that caring thing. I like Draco's skin smooth and white and there is something about truly gray eyes that makes them unnatural and beautiful at the exact same time. I love those things-

No.

_No._

Those are what I hate him for. He is pampered. He is now the richest thing in all of the UK, probably, and here he is sobbing over it. He has never had to endure the deaths of loved ones until now. The reason his skin is so smooth and pale is because he can afford to spend all his time inside and never lift a finger.

I'm supposed to hate this, hate, hate, hate. I have told myself this many times.

Caring is false. It is fake. I am playing a game and caring is only the thing that I have to pretend to do to win my dare.

That's all this is; a game. A simple game where words like 'caring' and 'love' shouldn't be brought up.

Fuck.

"Harry?"

His voice is so small I almost miss it completely, even though Draco's lying down right beside me. I jolt and turn to meet his eyes which are still reddened and puffy from his most recent fit of sobbing.

"Don't…don't do that, ok? Don't kill yourself over me or cut yourself or do anything stupid because I'm not sure how many times I can do this. Just promise me that you'll stay. Even after the game's done, just…stay."

I swallow thickly against the feeling of sandpaper in my throat. The thing is that I don't think that I _should_ stay around if the game is done. I don't think that I want to, not really. This is all I have to amuse myself anymore, and I know that I'm much too smart to do anything as stupid as kill myself now, so I should tell Draco that I will only be with him as long as the game goes and no longer but…

He's so small. So tiny and cracked up and broken and-

"Of course. Of course."

A smile lights his face and I can actually feel the muscles on my face mimicking his. He's almost cute like this, right now. He resembles nothing of the bloke who has hurt me so many times or taken a beating from me. He's Draco the person now, not Draco the game piece.

I do believe that I've been missing the point entirely.

"I'm sorry you know-" he starts, but I won't take it.

"Don't." I cut him off before anything more incriminating pours from our stupid mouths. "Don't say things today you'll regret tomorrow."

He nods slowly, letting his head fall and rest on the wall and keeping his eyes thoughtfully closed. Below the sharp outline of his jaw is a pulse point, beating slowly, drawing all my attention to it. And I just know that the skin there is soft, and if I were to kiss him there he'd-

Stop.

"I'm still sorry that I've made your life a hell before about your parents, and your godfather. I can still be sorry about that after this…this thing happened to me. I'm sorry."

The sandpaper is rubbing my throat fucking _dry_ and that's not fair because I am not a sappy person. This is a lapse in judgment. This is emotion that is not useful, it will get me nowhere to fucking cry like a baby. I breathe and stop myself and think through something to say, anything.

"Thank you."

He turns to me and smiles again, that childish, innocent smile that everyone else seems to have lost by the age of six. And he doesn't cringe when I smile, so I suppose that mine is not quite the sadistic smirk that it normally fixes into.

And it feels completely natural to sit up in his little white cot beside him and sit in silence, watching the shiny new shoots on the trees grow. It's a comfortable silence that settles, and I understand that sometimes, when things go horribly to shit, its better not to talk about it constantly. It's better to have someone who'll take the quiet and let you be.

And when Draco's frigid fingers curl into mine, I don't mind it so much. I hold his hand and this is ok for right now. Perhaps this is how it should be more often inbetween the nastier parts. Perhaps this should become normal.

He slides down beside me and I join him, throwing my school robes off to the side and lying in perfect, companionable silence. His hand is slowly warming under mine and the air is tinged with the warmth and promise of summer but he makes me shiver by pressing his immeasurably cold feet against mine. He laughs tinkles like tinny bells and I pull him closer.

This is _nice_.

"Is this moment right now for the love of me," he whispers randomly, my fingers and mind busy with stroking my initials still imprinted starkly in raised white scars on his jutting hipbone, "Or of the game?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I allow the first smirk on my face in over an hour, and pinch his skin tightly, just enough to get him to flinch._

_"Both."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Oh, this is the shameless self promotion part - check out the 'Best & Worst of HPDM Fanfiction!' because I think it's the highest HPDM forum here by posts. And, thank you (girls AND boys) for all the reviews:

**Julia,** **Sister to the Egyptian Psyc...,** **Padfootsvampirehuntress,** **faulted,** **JadeLilyMalfoy,** **qtshades, ****tenebricosa** **Lanfear1,** **IcyBlu,** **txcalbud,** **Nasyki,** **Super Ferret Of DOOM, ****nickainai,** **Vampire Louis,** **popcorn1986,** **DarkClaz,** **brionyjae,** **Dnic5,** **MimiTaylor,** **Jimbocous,** & **silver.emeraud!**

Love you, and see you in about a week,

mintapotter


	28. You'd Better Run, Run to Me

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author:** mintapotter

**A/N: **Hello to everyone! This chap is dedicated to **Nasyki**, for INSANELY long (and well worth reading) reviews. Thank you, I love them! And the chapter title is from 'I Found a Reason', a cover of a song by Cat Power.

Here we go...

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 28 - You'd Better Run, Run, To Me

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_This is what death feels like. It's free. It's simple._

_Jump._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I do believe that this is a dream.

I have awoken with a warm, soft little body cuddled in front of me, hugging me in its sleep. I am warm and content in every way, and the body beside me is breathing lightly into my neck, their hair tickling my chin. And they smell familiar, like mint maybe, or perhaps a little lemon? Fresh, clean, pure.

This is a dream. My life is _never_ pure, or clean, or fresh.

Nothing I do could ever warrant me this sort of contentment.

I roll over in bed and am nearly blinded by the shock of a purely white room, starched sheets and bright sunlight seeping through wide open windows.

I remember this place. I've been here before and-

The morning fog has passed, and I remember why I'm in the goddamn Infirmary, at this unearthly hour of the morning.

Because Draco- the warm body beside mine- was a pitiful mess yesterday. I had to pretend to love him and get the rest of the school to believe it, and this was just the sort of stunt I had to pull to make everyone believe it. The walls here at Hogwarts talk; the entire school will know by now that I stayed overnight with him.

_Fuck. Double shit and fuck all._

I should have _left_. I should have been gone at midnight, to make a clean end of my dare. I chance a glance at Draco, and he is still sleeping, peacefully as possible. I carefully replace his heavy arm on my pillow, his face wrinkling for a moment and then smoothing back to bliss. I carefully grab my robe from the bedside chair and slip it on, slipping out of the Infirmary as quietly as possible.

"That wasn't supposed to happen." is my new mantra for the day, and I repeat it to myself incessantly until I reach the lake on the lawns of Hogwarts. The dew on the grass still hasn't even receded yet, but I don't mind the hem of my pants getting wet. That truly is the least of my worries right now.

"I wasn't supposed to like that, or stay the night, or let myself fall into his little trap. That shouldn't have felt good, and I shouldn't have liked it. I must be more careful; I mustn't let my guard down and go all sentimental now. I can't, and I will not allow it. This stops here."

It's sad that even saying the words out loud doesn't make the feelings go away. I still _liked_ it, I cannot change the past. I slept the night through with a deep satisfaction, and I can't help but enjoy sleeping with Draco even without fucking at all. He is still beautiful, even though I can hate him for it because I am envious. I can still care about him as a child cares for their favorite toy; something useful to keep and difficult to replace once lost.

Yes, these new, awfully foolish feelings that I am having can still fit into my new way of being. I will continue the game, I will be ruthless, I can-

"Harry?"

_Not you. Not in the middle of my inner dialogue. Not now._

"Yes. What do you want of me?"

Only Ron could possibly interrupt me in a moment as important as this, when I am clearly trying to think through and sort myself out. Only he would think to look for me by the lake in the mornings. He still knows me too well, for someone I've hardly spoken to in the last several weeks.

He shuffles closer to me, as though I am a wild animal to be scared of and then joins me in sitting on the lawn, keeping an unnatural distance between the two of us.

"I wanted to tell you something, but I don't want you to get mad…"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ronald you'd better be out of that bed in the next five seconds because we've already been late to breakfast and class twice this week and if you thi-"

"I'm up Mione, I'm up for fucks sakes, could you give a man a moment?"

Mione was getting more and more comfortable with slipping into the guys dorms in the mornings and dowsing me with a glass of cold water to get me out of bed on a regular basis. I, for one, decided to skip the cold shower and get up before she resorted to such drastic measures. I used to have Harry silently shake me awake in the morning and leave without a word, and now Hermione had quite forcefully taken over his job as 'Ron's alarm clock'.

_Damn it Harry, what the hell do you think that you're doing with yourself nowadays?_

The simple facts were that Harry had hardly spent a moment extra in the Gryffindor common room or dormitories. He seemed much more inclined to spend his nights sneaking out (doing god knows what) and sleeping overnight in the Infirmary and his shared room with the ferret.

In my groggy morning state I didn't want to think of him sneaking out to do god knows what _with_ the ferret, so I shook my head and tried, for once, to think of something other than Harry and his disgusting taste in partners.

And then a glimmer of something shiny caught my eye from just inside my trunk, and the illusion that Harry wasn't an integral part of my life was shattered.

I was so used to that little crystal ball, the sphere that held and glowed with Harry and the ferrets shared emotions. Most of the time it was an angry shade of red, occasionally giving way to black, brown or other dark, brooding colours. I was actually so used to its soft glow, hidden mostly by my socks and button up shirts that this mornings sudden change in appearance actually caught my attention.

It was glowing _violet_ and _pink_.

_THIS IS NOT NORMAL_.

It was all I could do just to keep myself from hyperventilating, but Mione doesn't win Gryffindor points in class for nothing. She followed my gaze to the glowing Sensory Ball, and her eyes too lit on its interesting choice of colours.

"You've just _got_ to be _kidding _me_…_" was all she exclaimed before sitting heavily on my bed, all her worry about being late to breakfast washed away by the simplicity of the situation.

"I mean all week Harry's just been mooning over Malfoy, and doting on him and he seemed to be warming up to him and everything and…well I knew they were getting along better but…_love_? And _caring_? Since when did those emotions have anything to do with how Harry treated anybody?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard every word and soaked them in very, very thoroughly.

Harry had made in change in himself over the past week; I could acknowledge that. He was obviously spending time with Ferret, and as little as I liked the idea he seemed to be happier now than he was at the beginning of the year. He smiled occasionally, although it was more of a sadistic smirk, and he did more than just attend classes now. He lived and worked and spoke and ate and was acting closer and closer to the normal Harry I could remember from before.

Apart from him having bipolar mood swings and publicly humiliating me in our dorms, he was getting back on track.

But this was supposed to be a fuck buddy, or a crush. He was _not_ going to fall in fucking _love_ with Malfoy the bloody ferret-faced bastard on my watch.

"I'll be in class later Hermione, I need to speak with Harry first."

She gave me the most incredulous look just then, and didn't even have the courtesy to turn away when I started changing from my pajama's to regular trousers and robes.

_And _she_ has the nerve to act like a prude all the time. Hypocrite._

"How are you ever going to find him Ronald, you're going to be late and-"

"I think that sitting down Harry and discussing what falling in love with a Death Eater in waiting can do to a person is a little more important than class right now Mione." I rushed past her before having to double back and grab the Sensory globe, then rushed right past again with Mione still breathing down my neck.

"And how are you going to find him?"

I stopped only a moment and then just _knew_ where he'd be at this moment.

"I've got a place in mind."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"So…even after I specifically told the Professors to turn off the sensors in our room, you kept that globe. And you know that maybe a bit of me cares for Draco-"

"It's more than caring Harry, it's caring and love, and that's what I'm scared of."

­_It's funny how I was telling myself almost exactly the same thing._

I was silent for a moment after Ron told me about the sensory globe, but it wasn't why he thought it was. I wasn't enraged, for once, that I had been lied to. I wasn't angry even that only days ago he had been happy that it looked like I cared for Draco, but as soon as it was really love he wanted me to quit it. I wasn't even confused that I was feeling all these warm and fuzzy things again.

I do believe that the only way I show confusion anymore is through fear, and it is all I can feel.

_Fear is also an emotion I try my best to conceal, and is not something I want my old friends to see and analyze in a little globe._

"May I see the globe, Ron?" I ask quietly, my mind whirring over the complications that will arise with all these feelings mixing into our game.

"Sure Harry, but I still want to talk-" the moment he hands it over to me I let its thick weight fall into my hand before turning towards the lake and chucking it far, far in. Ron's mouth widens into a tiny 'o' as it plops heavily past the smooth black surface, and sinks.

"I don't want you going back for it. I don't want you and Hermione getting another one from Dumbledore and I am _sick_ of all you people fucking around with _my_ life, so please just leave before I do something unfortunate."

Ron's eyes are wide, scared and confused and angry all at the same time.

Perfect. I've got my groove back.

"I think that perhaps I am old enough to figure my own life out by now, but thanks for the considerate thoughts. Now shoo."

And shoo he did, Ron's retreating figure up the hill another stark reminder of what I had left behind.

_Along with my proper sanity_.

I took another moment to compose myself, decided that class really wasn't worth my time today and sat again underneath my magnificent tree beside the lake.

"So," I spoke aloud, because talking to oneself in the head isn't nearly as fun, "I'm in love with Draco." I sighed and plucked a few random strands of grass from the earth, ripping them apart in a more normal show of emotions. "What else is new?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I knew he would leave. I knew it, I could tell that it wasn't real. I wasn't sucked in by it._

Lying to yourself is so much harder when your brain is already the consistency of porridge.

"Mr. Malfoy, you're awake, finally."

Madam Pomphrey bustled in as she usually did, carrying a tray full of breakfast foods that looked much too tempting to my starving stomach.

_But there are more important things than food in this world Draco._

"You let Harry in yesterday, right?"

Pomphrey nodded, placing the tray at my bedside table and obviously not leaving until I picked up a bowl of something and finished it off. I would not eat however, until I understood.

"And did you see him leave this morning?" I asked, my voice low and cracking already. I knew her answer before she gave it.

"No, I was up bright and early and didn't see him at all. He must have gotten back to his dormitories sometime last night, I suppose. Now eat up before it all goes cold."

But I would not eat, because I began shaking again, and I couldn't stop. And then I was crying, and I wish I wouldn't, not in front of Pomphrey, but I couldn't stop even if I tried.

_He left by midnight, because you mean nothing to him. This is all a game Draco and you were playing straight into his hands. You shouldn't have underestimated him, you shouldn't have thought for a moment that he would willingly repeat the kindness from when Father died-_

I was trying to stop crying and then I started laughing, thinking that every time I wanted to spend a night with Harry at my side and even keeping up the pretense that he cared for me, I'd have to lose a parent or a close family member.

_Funny that, I've got no family left and neither does he. The last of the Potter's and the last of the Malfoy-Black's, each a sad excuse to their family and both fully fucked in the head._

The saddest bit, even sadder than the shaking or the sobbing, or Pomphrey eventually leaving when she realized that nothing could stop me crying, was that I wanted Harry more than anything else right now. I didn't want food, or comfort from anyone but him.

_And he's not here right now, so you're just going to continue on like this until he shows up and proves to you that you are worth more than a game, or a dare._

But Harry didn't show up. Not for hours and hours, not after the sun had begun to sink and my eyes began to burn and my throat began to sting and Pomphrey must have become sick of listening to me so she forced me to drink something acrid smelling and absolutely foul.

_A calming draught. I am so hard to deal with that they're feeding me calming draughts to keep me quiet. Wonderful. Superb._

And Harry didn't show up, so I refused lunch. I may have stopped crying but I hadn't stopped staring out the window for the past four hours, or was it six? I didn't care. It didn't matter. It wasn't what was past the window, the trees or the vista. It was the window frame itself, that wide open box, right there for me. All for me.

And a different window, I had fallen out of a window once. Well, Harry made me, he might as well have pushed me, and I had fallen, and he had stopped me. He didn't want me to die.

_See. He cares. Someone cares._

Pomphrey wasn't around; she was in her office. She'd care if she saw me walking towards that window, because she'd get the wrong idea. She'd think that this was my suicide attempt.

_Hey, wouldn't that be so fitting? To have my Mother and Father commit suicide, and then do it myself? It would fit my rule of threes so prettily…_

And at the window I couldn't help but press my fingers into the stone, to try and memorize the cold of it, the strength of it beneath my fingers. It would hold me up, it would keep me safe. It wouldn't let me fall until I wanted to. I could hear a yelp from below, and I chose to ignore it, because whomever was yelling at me didn't understand this. They didn't get that this was only an attempt.

I wouldn't, couldn't die because Harry would save me.

_Harry wouldn't let me fall. He'll catch me before I hit the ground. It'll prove that he cares. _

"He cares for me."

I climbed out oh so carefully, sitting on my strong stone edge and letting my legs dangle in the wind. Everything felt so fresh like this; I could see over treetops and into a far, far away distance. This was nice. This was free and simple.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_This is what death feels like. It's free. It's simple._

_Jump._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Julia, Jane.Jumped, MimiTaylor, sadistic, brionyjae, Jaimilee , JadeLilyMalfoy , Raiyevern, Nasyki, Crythor, Vampire Louis , emeraud.silver, IcyBlu, **& **nickainai**! Love you all and see you soon.

minta- I-love-cliffhangers-potter

(please review : ) )


	29. We've Been to the Top and the Bottom

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N:** Big _thank you _to **Vampire Louis**, whose reviews genuienly make me smile and help me with my terrible spelling!

Last order of business, the lyrics for the title are from Sia's 'Butterflies'.

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 29 - We've Been to the Top We've Been to the Bottom,

We've known everything, and forgotten,

You've kicked me around, you've wrapped me in cotton

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_He pulled closer, resting finally with his front completely along my back, warm and comforting and close in a way I never thought he could manage in all his craziness. He chuckled low at my response._

"_I look forward to it, then."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

My mind is an awful blur, and all the time that I've spent outside here, under my little tree has hardly done anything to clear it all up.

_I just want things simple and orderly like before. I want to hate Draco and I want to keep him mine, and I want the little reprieves inbetween the hate to just spend some time together. I still want the quiet, the peace. I want peace._

It seemed however that no amount of time spent under the tree brooding would help my muddled mind.

As fate would have it, being outside for all those hours would be both a saving grace and damnation.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I'm not sure how much time exactly had passed since I left the Infirmary this morning, or since Ron visited with his own little bombshell. What I am sure of is that the shadows on the lawn have shrunk and grown, and the students milling about their pathetic lives have come and gone in waves with each passing class.

None of them do anything more than hazard a glance in my direction when they pass by, and it's a safe choice that none of them chose to spoke to me.

I'm in the mood to do just about anything right now, and I want the peace and the quiet soon.

_My mind is in no condition to love somebody. I can barely take care of myself properly._

And that was a central truth that I couldn't deny; I hadn't eaten breakfast today, and I chose to skip lunch thinking that Draco was probably doing the same thing. It seemed only fair that if he had to suffer alone, that I should too.

_Since when does _fair_ or _right_ come into the equation?_

And with that little thought popping into my head I saw a flash of something, or a someone in a tower window. That was not unusual in itself. Students passing by windows during class had been snatching my attentions all morning.

It was the fact that this window was in the Infirmary, and it was the window that Draco had been staring out of since the moment I had found him.

It was the fact that the blonde was not only admiring the view, but he was stepping through the open frame and swinging his legs in the open air, his knees far over the edge.

_FUCK! Why me, why ALWAYS bloody me? _

"DRACO! DRACO!"

Screaming would do nothing at this point, so I started to run. My stomach churned like acid was peeling its way through the lining and up my throat. I couldn't breathe, I was drowning.

I didn't care.

I wanted to run twice as fast, to get into the school and fly up the stairs and burst into his room just in time to grab his hand, just in time to pull him back over the edge. I wanted to be where he was, holding him back.

"DRACO, STOP!"

Breathing hurt; my lungs burned. Every muscle was pumping working, filling with acid and burning. I couldn't remember ever running so fast in so short a time before, I couldn't remember ever having so much anxiety built up in so short a moment.

And Draco didn't care enough to heed my warnings. He pushed off the edge, and I wasn't quite at the school yet. I wasn't even close enough to the wall to break his fall with my body and die with him.

_Wait. I'm not there yet to catch you yet_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Jump._

I had to close my eyes to the world as I pushed off the ledge, because seeing things spinning by so fast would be too much. I'd scream for fear, and there was nothing I could do to prevent that screaming but to close my eyes.

_Fall._

Nothing made adrenaline rush like this. No other experience, save the best moment in sex, could _ever_ send shivers up my spine like this feeling. This absolute, pure, rush.

Someone was screaming below me, but given another split second and I'd hit the ground-

_No. Harry was supposed to save me. Where's Harry? I wasn't supposed to fall. This isn't happening._

I opened my eyes, and watched the packed dirt and scratched grass reach up to greet me.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I'm not close enough to save him. I don't _want _him to die._

_STOP._

My throat closed off the awful, screaming words when I thought the word _stop_. My mind halted thinking for a moment, and it _felt_ instead.

_A picture may be worth a thousand words, but a feeling was worth a million._

_Is it enough?_

I didn't hear the thump of a dead weight hitting the earth. I didn't hear moans of pain, or a scream from Draco's lips. I realized that all this time, all in this moment I had closed my eyes and I had only to open them to see what would be before me.

_Draco._

But not a Draco broken, this was a Draco halted from making the biggest mistake of his life. He remained suspended only inches from the earth, where magic and pure will had stopped him. I inhaled a single, deep breath and he fell the last few inches, shakily pushing himself from the dirt and sitting against the stone wall behind him, thrown abruptly into the shadow of the castles walls.

I can't feel anymore. Not my body at least; I'm on my hands and knees, shaking. Everything is cold, I can't stop shivering. Why am I on my knees? All I need is for my mouth to form words, for my mind to think proper thoughts.

"Love, what the _hell _were you thinking?" I hissed as I approached him, kneeling at his side and grasping his hand, which was colder than ice and shaking with tremors beneath the skin.

_But alive_.

"Since when am I 'love'?" he responded with a question, his head cocked hazily to the side

"Since a few inches separated you from your early grave." I replied, smoothing his windblown hair back from his face, only to reveal his thoroughly shocked eyes. "Actually, since I decided to stay 'till morning rather than leave at midnight." I whispered this and watched his slowed reaction to it, the widening of his eyes and the sorrowful smile on his face.

"Really? You stayed past the end of the dare, for me?" I nodded in response as he moved his head from under my touch and nestled instead on my shoulder. "I should have never doubted that you'd catch me."

"What?"

He sighed and trembled at my tone, before whispering slowly back. "I only jumped because I knew that you'd catch me. I knew-"

I pushed away from him and held him back from me a distance at his shoulders. "You jumped because you _knew_ that I'd catch you? I could have been looking the other direction, or-"

"But you weren't." he replied dreamily, eyes still in the odd shocked state they had adopted right after his landing. "And that's what counts, that I know that you'll always be around-"

I pulled my right hand back and slapped quite viscously at his face, my own palm and fingers ringing from the impact. He rolled with the hit, twisted back to me slowly with a much more down to earth look in his eyes, and his hands cradling his reddened cheek.

_Sometimes the old way is the best way._

"You cannot be so stupid as to think that I'll always be there to save you from your own messed up plans, because I _won't_. I may love you and you may feel the same for me, foolish as the thought may be, and that grants both of us some rights. Such as we trust each other to not purposefully throw ourselves into danger. Certaintly not willingly to death."

I pulled his hands away from his face at his wrists, to which he immediately flinched but I would not slap him again.

_That was the shock he needed to get back to earth. This is the healing bit._

I kissed his cheek lightly, then his lips. No tongue, because this wasn't the place or time for that. This was my way of showing Draco that I wasn't changing everything I had been because my emotions had finally gotten the better of me. He was still _all mine_, and because of that nothing and nobody would ever hurt him.

_Not even himself._

"Repeat after me. Word for word." Draco nodded, eyes trembling closed.

"You are mine." I whispered this slowly, watching Draco's shut lids flutter but not open as he silently mouthed the words after me.

"_You are mine._"

"And I am yours."

"_And I am yours."_

"Now look at me."

Draco reluctantly opened his eyes again, his irises still looking distant and his hands still barely shaking in my grasp. This was the fragile Draco that had to be taken care of. This was the broken-down side of him that even _he_ managed to further hurt.

"You are worth much more than the fact that I happen to love you. You are a person unto yourself, and you _don't need me_. But for as long as we are together, like this, I won't let anyone hurt you, and you will not willingly hurt yourself. Understood?" A sharp shake of his head told me that 'yes', he was lucid enough to understand my words.

"Same applies to me. We can…bend the rules when it's just the two of us together, though."

He cracked a wry smile that crinkled his eyes and made a few tears drop, but they were old tears that didn't mean much anymore. He wasn't crying now; these were the vestiges of fear simply left behind in his eyes, and the drops had nowhere to fall but down his face. I wiped them away nonetheless, before standing up slowly and carrying Draco in my arms, his own wrapped around my neck. With eyes blissfully closed he leaned into my shoulder, silent.

Walking into Hogwarts had never felt so peaceful.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The shakes were back, with full force. Harry remained silent on our private walk back up to the Infirmary, where I knew he'd make me stay for days on end. But every time his hands would shift to pull me closer to him I would shudder involuntarily. It was a shiver from my core on every step, and every jostle.

I suppose my body hadn't caught up with my brain on the fact that no, I hadn't died and no, I was not convulsing at the bottom on my drop.

Something jittery in me had awoken with the fall too; my eyes shut every time we passed by a classroom and the teacher abruptly barked something at a student, or when somebody dropped a book flat on the floors.

_I think I see Harry's want for silence earlier this year. Silence is a cherishable thing, and I think my nerves are too frayed to deal with anything more than a whisper._

_For a while._

Even Pomphrey didn't say a word when Harry walked back into the Infirmary with me still in his arms, and gestured with a tilt of his head to our old bedroom, kept separate from the main ward. She looked apprehensive at first, and then waved a hand at him to let himself in.

_It's almost like _this_ is home now._

It's sad to think how much of my time spent in this god-awful room was negative, and yet I think I missed it. It had become familiar because it had memories attached to it that Slytherin dormitories never managed to create. Every part of this room, every article of furniture and wall had a memory associated with it.

_Not all good ones, I must admit, but memories none the less. And it led to this moment, this second right now where Harry is carrying me back from a fall rather than dropping me to one._

_That's an improvement._

Harry was true to form and laid me carefully on my bed, pulling the covers up over my shaking shoulders and leaving me for a moment, only to return by pushing his bed up next to mine and fusing them using some transfiguration spell I didn't recognize.

I didn't care what the spell was however, it was the thought that counted.

_We're together. Finally_.

"Harry?" I whispered carefully as he slid a warm, steady arm over mine and hugged me closer to him.

"What is it?"

"Will you stay the night tonight? Please? For me?" It sounded like a beg because it was, and I didn't have it in me to care at the moment. I needed this and he was the only one who could give it to me.

"Of course." He whispered back, even his breath warm on my neck.

"You do realize that if we stay cooped up in here long enough I'll end up jumping you at an inappropriate time or place?"

I smiled and couldn't manage a laugh, but a smile was a good start. This one didn't even come with tears, thankfully.

"If you do I'll have to slap you for being so daft."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_He pulled closer, resting finally with his front completely along my back, warm and comforting and close in a way I never thought he could manage in all his craziness. He chuckled low at my response._

"_I look forward to it, then."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Hope you liked that! THANKS to: **MimiTaylor,** **x Tommy x S x,** **JPhinala,** **Crythor,** **brionyjae,** **JadeLilyMalfoy,** **doralinda,** **Julie Long,** **red-rose-priestess,** **わたしはわるいですよ,** **iamanevilgenius** **Julia,** **txcalbud,** **nickainai,** **Concerned ****pinkythepowerpixie,** **jordan ,** **Raiyevern,** **Vampire Louis,** & **emeraud.silver!**

Wow! Reviews are good, and thank you for sending me even the smallest notes.

Love,

mintapotter


	30. And I'm Feeling Good

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **Enjoy the fluff where you can get it because things always end up messy in the end where these boys are involved...

This chapter goes out to **nickainai,** whose been around for what feels like a long time (and it's nice to hear from you!)

(Lyrics for the title this week are from 'Feeling Good', preferably the versions by Muse or Michael Buble.)

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 30 - And I'm Feeling Good

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Because if my body is a temple, then Harry is the only one who will ever worship it this way, and love me enough to hurt it and make it sweat and bleed and burn under his touch._

_I'm all, all his._

_And I love it._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I wake to Harry breathing, his hand heavy and warm on my hipbone, the feeling both possessive and comforting at the same time. His breath is hot on my neck, and his other arm is bent underneath my head, acting as a pillow.

I realize quickly that it is so late at night, or early in the morning, that he is fast asleep and completely unaware of his surroundings. Only in sleep does he trust, truly. I wriggle a bit in my position to try and become more comfortable and also come to discover that his hands circulation has been cut off by my head, and he has no feeling whatsoever in his fingers anymore.

I pull his tiny pinky finger up to my mouth and bite it, because why the hell not? I'll blame my general insanity for it in the morning, should he notice the teeth marks.

I watch his face in the complete darkness, only the misty light of the moon and stars granting me any vision. I nibble and bite the tip of each finger, turning around in the bed and watching his face all the while for signs of pain. He shows none, so I'm not doing anything wrong, right?

By the time I start to bite so hard as to draw blood on his knuckles, the feeling has been regained in his hand and his eyes abruptly shoot open. I draw back and across the bed, pulling the covers with me and huddling far from him at the edge.

_Shit._

"What axactly the fuck do you think you are doing?" he whispers in a sharp rage, sucking on the knuckle that has most recently started to bleed.

Truth is, I'm not quite sure why I bit him at all. He was vulnerable, and I wanted to hurt him for it. Maybe.

"I wanted to hurt you, just a little. I'm sorry. I don't know why. I'm sorry."

And in my pleading I start to cry, pathetic, sad, fat tears that are shameful just to have started. Can't I be normal, for _fucking once_? Just one night of nothing going completely horribly wrong?

"You really aren't all right, are you love?" he still whispers low, but this time the initial rage is gone. This is predatory, stalking even. This is still scary, whatever it leads to.

It's all I can do to close my eyes and shake my head 'no', and then expect some blow to the face for my general stupidity or uselessness.

It's so much more of a shock to be pulled back gently to bed, and to have the covers smoothed down overtop. An awful part of me was looking forward to some fight of provocation for chewing up Harry's hand. It was what my most basic want and need was. _That's _the reason I bit him in the first place.

_I'm much more used to throwing myself into some fight. I want rage from you, not this. Where'd all that fucking anger go?_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Harry. Stop this, stop fucking _fussing_ over me. Why aren't you mad?"

Draco turns off the waterworks on a dime and pins me with glassy eyes, angry with the fact that I'm _not_, for once.

_Well, if punishment is what you want maybe you should only ask for what you're ready to receive._

"I'm not mad because yesterday you were such a mess I couldn't afford to be. I couldn't hurt you because you are already toppling over the edge Draco. And a few hours doesn't fix the fact that now you're an orphan, alone, and have gone completely insane. A few hours doesn't _fix_ the fact that you just jumped out a window, willing and ready to _die_. So forgive me for giving a little thought to _not_ hitting back when you decided to do _this_ while I was sleeping."

He continues to glare, before reaching out slowly with one delicate hand to pull up my shirt. He inches his hand underneath it and strokes the top of my chest, near the collar bone and then_ drags_ his nails down until I push him back. He falls so hard that as he hits the ground beside the bed with a thud his head knocks quite roughly on the bedside tables corner.

"What the FUCK are you doing? Have you gone MAD?"

His silvery blond head pokes up over the edge of the bed, eyes still red from crying, but his mouth smiling. He crawls back up to me in a slow seduction, each movement creating a new dip in the bed as he moves closer.

"Yes Harry, I've been completely mad for a very, very long time. And I _know_ that I'm an orphan, I'm not an idiot. And I allowed myself all of yesterday for mourning time, to sit around and do nothing but think on that fact. And _yes_," he adds with more vehemence to his voice now, "I jumped out a window with the knowledge and hope that somehow you would catch me, and prove that you love me. And I got what I wanted from that then. And now, I want you _angry_, and I want you to want _me_. Understand?"

I can barely breathe, because _nothing_ is as hot as Draco is in this moment, right now.

I can forget the blood on my hand, staining the sheets and stinging my skin, and I can forget the fact that I know Draco to be fragile and easily broken, but he's _asking_ for it. Demanding it, wanting it, pleading me for it.

He wants me, to want him.

And he likes it angry, because that puts all the fun into it.

"You are the single dirtiest fuck in the entire school, you know that?" I whisper this to him and pull him close to me, both of us on our knees and touching from them all the way up our chests, my lips caressing his ear. He shivers with my words, hands scratching at my back and chest again, just to get a rise out of me.

_I love you for being the dirtiest fuck._

"And what does that make you for liking it?" he responds slowly, pulling back and crossing his hands over to pull his own shirt over his head, just giving me enough time to do the same.

I simply smirk in response and push him to the bed, the distant but bone shaking sound of thunder trembling the very air around us. I should have noticed that it is raining outside, or observed the spark of lightning illuminating the room around us.

_But I don't because I get this to look at, and it is so much better than any force of nature._

And it's true, really. I have him pinned beneath me, skin warm and intolerably soft, hair disheveled by my own rough tousling and _my_ initials marking him as _mine_ on his hip.

All mine.

This body, mind and soul.

_Nothing beats the feeling of owning something so completely and totally, and having it want to be owned._

"Draco… you realize that this is that 'inappropriate times and places' I was talking about last night, right?"

"Do I look," he hisses, pulling his boxers off and ripping mine down without a modicum of modesty, "like I care?"

_And with that tone you speak to me in? I rather think not._

I slap him, across the face, because that is most satisfying place to do it and leaves the best mark, but always fades. It shuts him right up, and forces him to look back at me with a little bit of rage too.

_A fight's not worth it if there's no resistance._

"Don't talk to me that way. Now listen." He swallows slowly and stares only into my eyes, so I can continue without the chance of any interruptions. "There's three kinds of sex out there Draco: fucking, sex, and making love."

"Don't go all sappy on me now Harry and start with the making love crap beca-"

Another very satisfying slap to his other cheek shuts up him up and rises a level of anger in his eyes that is rarely there.

_Yes._

"I didn't say that you could interrupt me. Now as I was saying, there are those three kinds to me, and we've only ever fit into the 'fucking' category because we didn't care enough about each other to make it more. And no, I'm not going 'all sappy' on you, you nitwit. I was thinking that maybe just sex instead could be a little more…fun tonight."

"Can it be rough sex, at least?" he edges in petulantly, expecting another blow for the interruption, but his comment is what I was hoping for, and I kiss his temple instead.

"We're already there darling, already there."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Even I can admit that a relationship built on sex and hormones can't mean much in the long run, no matter what kind of sex it is.

But for all my fucked up wants and needs, this seems different, deeper maybe.

I think about what's different here, and realize that for the very first time Harry and I are not only having sex in a bed, for one, but we're _facing_ each other.

_It shouldn't have taken this long for us to progress to this, but so is life._

And he's kissing me everywhere, from my temples to my face and neck and chest and everywhere _but_ my mouth. Each touch is soft and almost tickles, leaving electric trails across my skin. That's all I want, a kiss on the lips, a connection, and he most definitely won't give it to me. But I've done enough begging tonight, so I'll just have to wait for it.

He shuts off even the thoughts running through my mind with his fingers wet already with his own saliva on my hole, and surprises me with a rather harsh push of one, and then quickly two. The treatment is almost cruel, but the sentiment is kind.

"You don't have to be so fucking cruel to be kind, Harry." I whisper, his eyes glowing up at me from far below.

"Oh but I do Draco, now shut up and stop complaining."

There's something about the growl in his voice there that tells me that this isn't the time to be asking for him to soften his touches, or go a little easier on me. Oh no, this is about the time when all he wants to hear are my moans of pain, not any pleasure involved.

_Well, I was asking for it_.

After an endless torture of his fingers he pulls them out and crawls up to me, his face hovering not even a foot above mine, his hands pushing dents into the mattress on either side of my torso, but he is touching me _nowhere_.

"Close your eyes Draco. Go on, close them. Trust me." He whispers so low I comply without thought, willing to do anything just to get him to touch me again, anywhere, any way.

And I feel him shifting his weight onto one hand so the other can guide his own cock inbetween my legs, which he managed to pull quite roughly apart and force into bending at the knees.

But once he forces himself into me, not all of it but enough to make the stretch hurt, I moan and open my eyes as he closes his, and waits. He's balanced very precariously over me, both hands back on me now, not at my sides but on top of my ribcage. His thumbs push down so hard that I'm afraid he'll crack the bones under their pressure, and as his fingers curl painfully around my sides and into my skin, the nails digging half-moon cuts into it. And then he pushes further and moans as I do too and _this_ is why sex is different than fucking.

Because even though his eyes are closed I know that he's imagining me, and the short breaths he pushes between his red pursed lips reveal how fucking much_ I _turn him on. My fingers curl around his waist and pull him closer to me, so that he lies with me, skin stuck to skin and when he thrusts again it _hurts_, fuck it, but his moan and breath are on my cheek now, and this is closer than we've ever been. Every smooth motion of every muscle in his body I can feel, and every sharp hiss or mumbled word I can hear.

Yes, it hurts; it always has and if we always do it like this, than it always will. But I _love_ it because he _loves _me. He's doing everything I tell him too, because even though I'm the bottom here, I can still control the situation.

"Open your eyes." I demand, my voice catching and breaking with a little more pain as he pushes again, slowly and still roughly, into me.

"No…can't." he murmurs back, his brow furrowed in concentration and his lips still pursed open and breathing hard. I squeeze the muscles of my insides around him which elicits the most breathy moan yet, and add "Now. It's not a choice, Harry, open your fucking eyes."

And he does, and in that first look between us, his gaze is _worshipful_. He worships me for this, for wanting this and letting him do it. So he keeps his eyes open even though he finds it hard and he keeps thrusting slowly and harshly, smirking evilly when I gasp in pain or pleasure, he doesn't care which.

And then it's ending, I can tell, because his thrusts are much more desperate now, deeper and harder and with less care. Lightning flashes again and in the spilt second of light I can see the inky strands of his black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and I know now that mine must be doing the same.

"Draco…Draco…I…" he gasps inbetween labored breaths, staring once more into my eyes before keening out in his own orgasm. His head falls suddenly onto my shoulder in that moment, the sweat from him feeling cool on my skin, and then something hot is mingling there too. I realize with a gasp that the hot feeling is his tears leaking on my collarbone and that his shaking is partially sobbing, but before I can laugh at him for being so fucking sentimental he bites the bone harshly, enough to bruise it and cut and make me burn with the jolt of pain.

I yelp and he's gone, laying on me from toe to head, breathing still so harshly and kissing the bite softly, as though that's the only apology for it that I'll get. We don't share words but he pulls out eventually and slides down, to give me the proper sort of head that I most definitely deserve now. Of course, I don't take very long because I was nearly done when he finished too, but he is still really fucking _good_ at it. A mouth that wicked should be made illegal.

_If my back arched any fucking further something would be bound to snap._

Thunder rolls around us again, negating the need for words. We don't need words now, not a one. Harry crawls back up to me and finally, _finally_ gives me the kiss that I wanted from before, tasting salty and feeling hot and I don't give a shit that his mouth has just gone down on me. I can't care when a kiss is like this, deep and powerful.

"Love you." He whispers, still not apologizing for the bite, and not explaining his unexpected tears.

_I don't care anymore; he doesn't have to explain a single thing_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Because if my body is a temple, then Harry is the only one who will ever worship it this way, and love me enough to hurt it and make it sweat and bleed and burn under his touch._

_I'm all, all his._

_And I love it._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Hope you liked it, and thank you to those who told me what was on their minds last time:

**Jess, punkchick99, x Tommy x S x, grimm018, Sister to the Egyptian Psychic, Julia, ghellie, Jaimilee,Vampire Louis, mordechaimalachai, nickainai, Padfootsvampirehuntress, Spixilah,red-rose-priestess, MimiTaylor, brionyjae, Jimbocous, txcalbud, JPhinala, Crythor, Whored, -Fire-Arisa-Ice-, iamanevilgenius, & emeraud.silver!**

WOOT! I love reviews, so please keep them coming!

luv, mintapotter


	31. You'll Ask Me To Pray For Rain

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author:** mintapotter

**A/N: **Exams are throwing my schedule around, but here's something I had the time to finish. It's weirder than normal becuase I've been reading weirder books lately, but tell me if you still like it or not. It's also probably the longest chapter in this story so, consider yourselves lucky! (Title lyrics are from Iron &Wine's 'Cinder and Smoke'.)

Special thank you to **JPhinala, **whose been around a long time and deserves the coveted 'Mintapotter award for reviewing a lot'. So there you are. Wear your sash and crown with pride!

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 31 - You'll ask me to pray for rain

With ash in your mouth

You'll ask me to burn again

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I can feel my stomach pouring my own bodies blood back up my throat, and all I can think as I vomit is 'I've earned myself a nice cup of tea for the day. Maybe I'll bring Harry one later on too._

_If I come back for him by tonight. _

_If.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Waking up in the Infirmary, in our special little room, is nothing new.

Waking up sore, shrink-wrapped to the sheets with sweat, and with bite marks on my collarbone, that's old news too.

But this time's different because this time I'm not even _plotting_ what I'm going to make Harry do when he wakes up. I'm not conniving anything to dare him later, or thinking up something nasty to force him to tell me.

I'm kinda warm and content; I think that's what I'm feeling.

And perhaps what's bubbling just underneath the thin layer of content and general happiness is rage and anger and a bit of sorrow, but those emotions are always there anyways. They're what make my need for this game grow with time. Rage is an addictive force, and it's what makes me crave hurting Harry so much, I think.

It's still there. It's just that for right now, it's not dominating my thoughts.

This is so_ nice._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Draco's cute in the mornings, I can't lie. He yawns a little every time he really starts to wake up, and always scrunches his face against sunlight. It's a habit he can't control, seeing as how he's still mostly asleep while he does it.

It's charming.

I realize in no uncertain terms that I'm becoming soft and mushy. I get it, I accept it even. But this can only ever be a part of my time. A section of my day can always be devoted to _cute_ and _charming_. They have to be recognized the same way rage and lust have to be satiated.

Just thinking of that last makes me want more of Draco than the yawning blob he is right now.

"Draco," I speak so low I sound like I'm purring, and he smiles at the sound. With his eyes closed I brush my hand over his fringe lightly, and finish with "Let's take a walk."

He shakes his head 'no' and mumbles something or other, but that doesn't matter in the grander scheme of things.

"No Draco, we're going for a walk. We need it. You need it. Get up."

His soft face melts away and he's frowning a little but he doesn't mumble anything else. He doesn't ask why. He gets out of bed the same time I do and pulls on his shorts and trousers, shirt and cloak.

No tie. I've hidden his tie.

_He doesn't need to know why._

The faint etch of anger is still marring his features, and I grab his hand to soothe it. It's soft and warm, and the stress leaves his face a little when he asks "Where are we going?"

I smile my softest smile and simply whisper "Follow me."

_He doesn't need to know where._

And so we walk. We pass classrooms full to the brim with students, professors stalking the halls for stragglers, the castle's ghosts. No-one so much as bats an eyelash at us holding hands.

To them, this too is nothing new.

We walk in silence over the dewy grounds; the fog covering them making everything about us feel damp. It's a little like the all over sweat during sex, only this is cold and clammy. The feeling we pick up on our skin once we're deep inside the Forbidden forest is what sex would be like with anyone else now, I think.

It would still be wet, but meaningless. Cold. That's what my life would be if I went back to the boring routine of life.

Draco looks sideways at me a long time, staring at my lips before I realize that I've been mumbling. I'm losing myself again.

"What are you saying?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. It reminds me of thunder far away, and I can't help but shiver. Just his voice has an effect that makes me tremble.

"I was just thinking…Does school matter anymore to you? Is there anything that makes you care about what you're doing with your life? Is anyone else significant enough to you to make you care?" I whisper this all very quickly because the words form themselves in my mouth instead of my brain. This is mindless talk, hypothetical.

I think that my brain is running on fumes. It frayed at all the edges, and the rips and tears are getting wider every minute.

"I don't care about school anymore Harry, you know that. It's the backdrop to everything else. It, all the students and people and things…they're like background noise to me. I can't concentrate long enough to sit through class half the time… The only significant thing lately is you. You and me and…nothing else."

"So you'd do anything I ask you to-"

"-because you're the only thing worth listening to." He finishes my sentence for me and we keep walking in silence, allowing the mist to dampen our clothes and make us hyperaware of our surroundings for once. I can't see much past the few feet all around us but that doesn't stop me from walking. Out here it's just Draco and I, the ferns dripping with dew and the air hung heavy with mist. I just need to get far away enough from everyone else, to do what I want to with Draco. The forest isn't judgmental. It won't breathe a word of what we're doing out here.

We'll always be on the outskirts of everything. We live in our on world now, with our own rules and laws and it only so happens to overlap with that of the students in Hogwarts. They're only background music.

It's nice to know that Draco's only thinking about me, most of the time.

_Most of the time isn't good enough_.

That would be my goddamned fucking crazy mind speaking up again. It's acting up again. And this morning it was so normal.

"I'm cold, and my feet are soaked all the way through. Why are we so far out here Harry? If you want anything for breakfast we should turn back about now…"

Draco starts off talking normally and trails off; probably because he's noticed that I'm staring at him with my head cocked to the side. Every time I do this to him, I know that it makes him feel like I can see right through him. It's almost like I can, really. He's scared again.

He stops walking.

I stop walking.

I drop his hand.

"I like how you say my name." I think out loud. I whisper and pretend that I can see the mist part for my words, the way clouds form when you talk outside in the cold. I can just picture the water parting for my breath, the opposite of forming the clouds. Breaking them.

"I'm thinking about you all the time Draco. I don't care about anything else anymore; I haven't cared about anything else for a long time now."

His eyes widen so far it's like his whole face is just white and gray. His eyes take over all his emotions and show them to me, on the silver platter of his irises. He's worried. He thinks that his is going downhill. He's wishing that I would just be _normal_ again, like I was for approximately one minute this morning.

"You think about me _more_ than you do about other people, but you still care about them, don't you? You still care about your appearance to other people, and what they think of you, and that must mean that you actually _think_ about other people and-"

"Harry."

_Mmm. There's my name again_.

"Harry! Look at me when I'm talking to you! You're acting delusional, you know that? You haven't had enough sleep and you're probably still all messed that I jumped from the window and-"

"Shh. You're avoiding my questions. I brought you out here because we're spending too much time happy and dozy Draco. If we're like that long enough then we'll end up happy with other people, and I won't let that happen. We've got to keep each other miserable. When we're miserable we stick together. I'm just asking you these questions because they make you anxious. I'm only out here to rip you apart again."

His hair flicks softly from side to side because he's shaking his head again my words. He's not listening. He's shutting me out.

_Don't shut me out. Don't you DARE shut me out; I'm all you've got. Why aren't you listening to me?_

"Harry, _why_ must you always go psycho on me just when I think things are becoming stable again? Is there no fucking _peace_ with you? Can't you just spend one day not wrapped up in some form of misery?" He spits the words angrily at me and tries to stalk past me, crushing all the delicate deep green ivy's and the forests many ferns as he stomps past.

My hand lashes out to grab his arm, and I do it for two reasons.

One, to keep him here. In our little space.

Two, to make him say my name again.

And lucky me, he does both.

"HARRY!" He screams it, his eyes furious as his arms twists from my grip. If they could change colour they'd be red with fury right now. Red as blood.

"STOP IT! Come back to your fucking MIND why don't you! I can't fucking deal with you like this anymore! How about you stay out here and spout all your random shit for a while and _I_ go back to the castle where it's plenty warm and safe and NORMAL and eat something because I'm _hungry! _Why don't you find someone else to play mind-games with right now because I'm _tired_ of this and you can come and find me when you're sanity finds you. Now don't _touch me_."

I can swear that he's spitting venom by the end of his tirade. He's breathless. I can tell that if I touched his cheek it would be cold and damp, like the skin on a dead person, or a salamander. Slimy.

_He doesn't want me to touch him._

_He doesn't want to listen to me._

_He doesn't want me._

I let him stalk ten quick steps away before the smile lights on my face again and then I lunge.

_If he's forgotten that I'm all he needs then I'll just have to remind him that he always wants me._

_I should be the only thing on his mind._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Stalking away from Harry is liberating, that's what it is.

I feel like a prisoner liberated from a psychiatric ward. Sure, I have my crazy moments. I can be just as much a sick fuck as him, sometimes.

_But there is such a thing as a proper time and place, and this just isn't it._

For today, I chose that I would be happy. I've given up on grief and sorrow, on anger and rage. Just for today. Even the craziest among us need a break, and when I woke up this morning, I wanted the average life of Joe Somebody for just one FUCKING day.

I _wanted_ to talk about the weather over toast and jam. I wanted to read a mindless book in front of the fire. I wanted to take a nap with Harry, preferably, in the afternoon. I wanted a rest from the death in my life. I wanted a sense of normalcy, for just a couple hours. Just one day.

And then Harry comes along and forces me on a walk so early that the fog hasn't faded and starts murmuring under his breath and staring at me sideways and spouting off the most random crap I could have thought of. He starts going all 'I'm-gonna-get-you' on me. I know that he's after me, for something. He wants me to cry, or end up bruised, or jump into bed with him. He wants something out of me that I don't feel like giving up right now.

So I tell him to 'fuck off', in so many words, and I try my best at leaving.

_Hit the road Jack. Well, at least for today._

But Harry, being Harry, doesn't do 'fuck off' all that well.

I only have the time enough to hear him take the last few steps towards me and by the time I turn around he's ramming straight into me. He has all the speed and force of a train behind him, and the madness to fuel it.

He gets what he wants. Period.

We both land in the middle of a great dirty pool of moss and rainwater and bugs. Filth, all of it. It may only be a few inches deep but the splash alone throws up and covers my face with a thin layer of muck. It fucking _drenches_ my robes.

I scream his name and scratch at his demented face, and he only smiles a little wider. Filth, apparently, doesn't faze him.

"That's the spirit." He murmurs again, pushing and holding my hands together above my head, straddling my waist and not even blinking when my knees lash up to slam into his back. His madness fuels his power in ways that my rage cannot fuel me.

_Yet._

"The only word I want to hear coming out of your mouth is _Harry_. Now, all I wanted was for you to remember what being miserable was like and apparently all you wanted was some comfort from other people-"

"Harry." I hiss it as harshly as I can, and he shuts right up. He likes it when I say his name, apparently. "You're being stupidly jealous at just the thought-"

My words are cut off by the onrush of pure, red blood filling my mouth. That's what happens when an elbow collides with one of your molars and manages to knock it out. All I can taste is its metallic flavor and all I can feel is its relentless warmth curling out of my cheeks and down my chin and into my hair. And the filth below me, it's probably running red too.

Harry smiling, but he's not holding my hands above my head anymore because he had to let them go to smash my mouth in. Bastard's _smiling_. And sitting on my waist with his hands at his sides, not ready for a blow in any direction. He still fully believes that in my howling and scrambling, I'm not thinking.

_I'm always thinking, plotting, idiot. Something I nearly stopped this morning so _thank you_ for reminding me how fun it is to hurt you back. Fucking asshole. _

"_Harry…"_ I wail a little and clutch both hands at my mouth, riding the pain and letting it fill my voice with fear. Let him think that I'm sad and scared and in so much pain that I'm not thinking straight. Let him enjoy this moment now and regret it later.

_I want to make you cry so hard that you bleed tears. I want you to bleed so much that you cry blood. _

_I hate you._

I whip my head up as fast as I can and connect it perfectly with his nose.

_Crack goes the nose. Crack crack crack._

That's the sound it makes when it connects with my forehead, and Harry can't help but make a tiny scream as he falls backwards. Directly, it would seem, into a deeper part of the murky pool we've been lying in.

I've rolled him onto his stomach and sat on his back long before he can object or understand that all my wailing and sobbing was an act. I swallow pain as I swallow blood, something he hasn't mastered yet. I'll throw it all up later, when I can afford to.

When he starts to laugh it's a sound that scares me deeper than I care to remember. All the hairs on my neck stand on end and my back shivers involuntarily at the notes. I grab a tuft full of his hair at the crook of his neck and push his head face forward into the pool of muck.

_Filth. Shit._

His hands start to scratch at mine as soon as he realizes that _no, I'm not letting your head out of this water just yet_, and they burn tracks onto my skin. His nails catch hold of the skin just around the nail of my thumb and he pulls so hard that the nails separates a little from the flesh holding it down underneath.

So I scream, and in retaliation push his head down further into the mud with my other hand. More pain to swallow. More blood. I think I swallowed my tooth too. By the amount of blood coursing through the cracks in my teeth and down the edges of my lips, it may have been teeth.

Harry's hands are scrabbling less. He's going limp.

I hold him down _one._

_Two._

_Three _seconds longer.

And then I just let go, stand up, and watch him burst to the surface. He coughs up water brown with dirt and barely has the energy to curl into a ball at the edge of the pool and just sob. He sobs and coughs and vomits all with mud flowing around the seams of his eyes and into his nose.

Every breath is a wet, disgusting wheeze.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, _Harry,_ HARRY!" I start off whispering into his ear and end up screaming at him even though he's already crying hard now.

I've already won at this game.

"How do you like the sound of your fucking name now? When I scream 'no' I mean NO and when I tell you that I'm leaving I mean that I AM LEAVING and when I SCREAM YOUR NAME LIKE I'M ANGRY AT YOU THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD FUCK OFF BEFORE I MAKE YOU, YOU SICK FUCK!"

He can't even get onto all fours he's sobbing so hard now, and the coughing brings up new mud every time, it seems. I can't feel pity though, not now. Now there is only enough room in me for rage and pain, and those are the only I'm feeling.

"Now did you learn your lesson about listening to me today, _Harry?_"

He nods and little, but that's not an answer. I need some more of this dominance. I need more of this power that he always seems to think is exclusively his.

"Answer me with a 'yes Draco'. Now, did you learn your lesson?" Coughing brings up a new metallic taste, fresh blood from the scratches and tears of my throat. I can barely yell my throat is so hoarse, but I manage to somehow. It's not like I have any sound to compete with, seeing as how the entire forest surrounding us is quiet as the grave.

Harry manages a mumble through a sob and my foot manages to connect with his side hard enough to break something.

_He'll be peeing blood for days._

"Now answer me properly, DID YOU LEARN YOUR LESSON?"

With his eyes sewn shut with crusted grime and his face pushed into the moss with the force of his own pain he croaks out a "Yes, Draco." from inbetween his split lips.

"Good." I mutter, walking away slowly and finally feeling the nasty, nauseous side effects of swallowing more than a pint of blood. They're not pleasant.

"Now fuck off and stay away from me until I tell you to. I'll come to you when I feel like it. Stay here until I'm back and don't you dare move."

"Thank you Draco. Stay angry, please. I love you more when you're angry." Harry's lips barely move to push the words out, and they mix his saliva with the filth beneath them. He has filthy lips and filthier words. Everything about him is tainted right now. "Let's do this again. Kill me again. Do it."

I almost feed my hunger to kick him once in the temple and watch him die, but something in me keeps me from drowning in rage. It'd kill me to kill him when he can't even sit up straight. So I stalk away with less gusto than only a few minutes before, and prepare to vomit somewhere in the woods. The need to throw up is partly blood and partly Harry's words mixing around in my stomach and mind. He'll stay here all day if I make him, but his words will be with me. I'll vomit them up and forget all about him, that's what I'll do. The mist is clearing so that I can see the path Harry and I cut through the undergrowth to get to this spot, and I follow it to edge my own way back to the school. Alone.

Perhaps my own mind is slipping a bit because I realize that our fight didn't even end with sex. I could have, and perhaps Harry would be twice as sore as I was now, but it didn't matter in the end.

_I told him once that not everything in our relationship can be sex all the time. I suppose all we have to do is fit in spots of happiness followed by prolonged periods of violence and POW; you've got an abusive dysfunctional couple! _

_Hoorah._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I can feel my stomach pouring my own bodies blood back up my throat, and all I can think as I vomit is_ '_I've earned myself a nice cup of tea for the day. Maybe I'll bring Harry one later on too._

_If I come back for him by tonight. _

_If.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Wow. Hope you liked that (I enjoyed writing it IMMENSELY!) Keep reviewing, and major Thank You's to:

**Tai Anime, brionyjae, Jess, draco is the god of my temp..., txcalbud, Julia, MimiTaylor, wondererx, yaeko, -Fire-Arisa-Ice-, Bad fairy, nickainai, doralinda, punkchick99, celia westridge, Asato Sohma, emeraud.silver, Crythor, x Tommy x S x, mordechaimalachai, JPhinala, &iamanevilgenius!**

I'll start updating more after next week, and until then

luv ya

mintapotter


	32. Another Little Hole

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **I'm on vacation, so be happy that this place has wireless internet! Hope you enjoy this, and its dedicated this week to **Zarah**, a new reviewer with an awesome name! (To answer a question, I've been reading a lot of Chuck Palahniuk and Douglas Coupland. Try 'Fight Club' and 'Microserfs'. They're awesomeness in a box.)

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 32 - Another Little Hole

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_One more? Just one? It could all be over…the game that is. Not us. Never us._

_"Dare." I whisper into his skin. He shivers, only to grin for real this time._

_One more can't hurt, could it?_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

We, as a race of fallible creatures, always choose to do what's inevitably bad for us in the end.

We smoke ourselves into early deaths, drink our livers until they bleed alcohol. We have sex with strangers and stranger sex with those we know. We pick our scabs and suck the blood from cuts around our fingers. We bite our nails and scratch itches that are best left alone. We eat too much and too little and do everything inbetween to test our bodies.

Somewhere deep down, everyone relishes pain. I think.

Take the situation when one loses a tooth, for example. No matter how much it pains you or bleeds and makes you want to pass out or vomit, your tongue can't stop probing the place where that familiar tooth used to rest. And the gums are nothing special, they're mushy really. A section of your mouth that's turned magically into stringy, bloody, ground beef. And it hurts and tastes only of iron warmth, but you'll always probe it. You can't stop.

And if Harry could be anything else in this world he'd be this fucking hole in my mouth. He hurts when you get too close and won't stop paining you until you leave him be, but he's irresistible. I could make myself leave him alone for a couple of minutes, but in the end I'll go back to him. Always will.

As I pick my way not so delicately through the forest and back towards civilization I'm already missing the git a little. I trample the ground extra hard on my return trip to make sure that I'll be able to find my way back eventually, following a path of broken plants stalks doused in wads of my pink spit.

Charming.

The sack of pussing, bleeding bones I left back there will have to be picked up eventually or he'll go to rot.

But I have the rest of the day to myself.

I can't go to Pomphrey for help with the little hole problem, but I can sneak into the Infirmary and steal as many pain potions as I please. But that, my dears, is only the first order of business. After that I'm going to shower and slip into my most expensive clothes.

Brushed linens.

Cashmere.

Fuck it, silk too.

I'm going to clean and cut my nails and brush my teeth ten times over. Wash, rinse, repeat my hair, comb it, cut it. Spell it brighter, add some highlights perhaps? Lowlights, whatever they might be called. Curled around a nice long novel about something trivial with a steaming cup of tea sound just right too. My day of leisure is planned.

Up until the point where I'll have to go back to Harry and drag him back to the school.

My tongue prods an especially raw spot in the fleshy bit of my gums and I have to stop and hold my jaw to keep from crying out, seeing as how I'm inside the school and young students scuttling by are already throwing me frightened looks. For the damage done to my delicate face Harry will be dragged by his hair across the lawns, mark my words.

That boy doesn't deserve mercy.

I straighten up as the wave of pain flashes by and then subdues. I square my shoulders and try and walk with some _dignity_ towards the Infirmary wing. I hope that the clipped taps of my shoes against the stone tiles isn't too reminiscent of Lucius. I don't want to be like him. It's humorous to think, at moments like these, that we were even related.

Ha. Like he'd have been caught dead with his shirt stained and fingernails torn and bleeding. _Tsk, tsk_ _Draco_, that's what he'd be thinking if he could see me now.

Just because your chin is dripping red and your jaw is swollen black doesn't mean that you have to give up your dignity.

_Oh no. Not that._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**MINISTRY TO BEGIN CRACKDOWN ON DEATH EATERS AND ASSOCIATES; **

**FAMILY AND FRIENDS BEWARE!**

So splashed the front page of the Prophet, the paper sitting innocently in front on my dormitory door. Arriving back from the Infirmary with stolen (potent) goods cradled in my arms, it was the last thing I wanted to greet me. The words pounced out at me and wrapped my mind in their message; I was about to get a hell of a visit from some very, _very_ angry Aurors.

Even in death my parents' legacy was to live on in my name, Draco MALFOY. The last 6 letters would be reason enough for the Ministry to barge right into Hogwarts and arrest me. Interrogate me. Hurt me.

I couldn't be bothered with it. I had _work_ to do. I had to clean myself up first, nice and proper and then I would tackle the dreaded article and all that it led to. The Aurors would inevitably come, probably tomorrow. Worrying over them wouldn't stop it happening or make it any easier. I had to bathe first, then concentrate.

Get my priorities in order. _Take pain potions. Bathe. Read about life in general. Pick up Harry. Clean up Harry. Supper. Sleep._

Right then. Everything was in order, really. Life was as normal as any Hogwarts student. I had a schedule, just like everyone else. I could pretend if I wanted to for a moment that I was normal too. That my agenda didn't involve pulling out the second tooth that had been loosened.

I was going to have a normal day until I had to pick up Harry, goddamnit, and that was the end of the story.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mmm. I look good cleaned up, really, I do.

Well, I'll concede a little bit. I _actually_ strongly resemble a druggy who hasn't eaten or slept in days, but that'll go away with a few good days of rest. My thumbnail, previously hanging on by only a tendril of flesh, is now bandaged onto my finger. I swallowed enough painkilling potions to knock out a Hippogriff and then enlisted the help of a school house-elf to help me pull out the buggering loose tooth. I then proceeded to throw up most of the potions and swallowed blood, but at least I feel better now.

A shower and change of clothes go a long way.

And then I read the article. The _dreadful_ fucking thing is actually a lot worse than I made it out to be. The Aurors are only conducting 'investigations' on all known Death Eater family and friends, but they have the 'power to detain anyone for further questioning at a different location need be'. That's basically code for 'Draco, you'll be staying in a cell in the Ministry until you cough up all the facts about your parents'. I already have a bag packed of a few of my things; some clothes, a comb and a toothbrush.

And now for Harry dearest.

It's a good fucking thing that I didn't down every pain potion that I stole because by now he'll be needing something for sure. I left him behind sometime this morning; I have no sense of time anymore. It's late afternoon now though and if he's not frozen to death he'll at least be starving. I throw on an extra cloak for my trek out to see him because that way he can have it on the way back. I think I'm a genius, but Harry will probably be less enthusiastic about my bringing him a cloak.

He'll probably be waiting for me behind a tree, a nice blunt rock nestled between his ready hands, just waiting to connect with my pretty skull. It wouldn't surprise me in the least.

I trek across the thick lawns with a purpose and steadfastly ignore the shouts of my name from my classmates. _They've_ read the article too; every student and staff member in the school doubtless has. A few will offer solace because they're going to be targeted too but most will throw rotten fruit or point and laugh. I'm not ready right now to deal with my adoring public.

Concentrate. Harry.

The path of broken stalks and torn up ferns helps me back to him; I can't help but to realize that this is longest I've gone in a long time without seeing him. The wet moss and fresh shoots remind me of those eyes, the same ones that will undoubtedly to be filled with rage when I return to them.

And all of a sudden I'm at the pool of water that I remember. The muck and mud here is still disturbed from our tussle this morning. The only difference in the scenario is that Harry is nowhere to be seen or heard, and the light shining through the branches of the trees is a stronger yellow than this morning. It parts the mist, but Harry just isn't here.

"Harry?" I call out feebly.

A beat. A frog croaks and a flock of birds far away take flight, the soft rustle of their wings beating in the still forest air. Harry doesn't respond.

"_Harry?_" I call again, my voice edged with a worry that shouldn't be there.

A soft slapping sound of something against water breaks the silence this time. It sounds like a rock being dropped into a lake, breaking the surface, and I can't help but remember my theory of Harry waiting for me with a boulder in hand to smash my face in.

I tread softly towards where the noise seems to be coming from, but Harry's not standing on the prowl for me there.

By the looks of him, if he can stand on his own two feet in the next few days, it'll be a miracle.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Spend enough time alone and your mind will do anything to keep itself busy. I've graded all the pains in my body on a scale of one to ten. Anything under six is unimportant. Anything over six will have to be attended to.

My nose; four.

My hands are numb, but before they went numb they burned with the wet and cold; six. Possibly a seven.

My feet are a definite eight; they _burn_ with the cold. I've never appreciated having toes quite like I do just now.

My throat is a nine. I would give anything in my Gringotts vault right now for something to make breathing and swallowing easier. I would walk on my waterlogged, frozen and burning feet all the way to Hogsmeade if someone there could cure this pain.

But I have to sit still like a good little boy and wait for Draco to come back. I've learned my lesson, I swear I have. I want to wait for him and prove that I can be trusted with something.

I'm waiting for Draco.

I'm waiting for Draco.

I'm waiting for Draco.

I'm _still _waiting for Draco.

It's been hours my stomach's gone from rumbling to pains to a fiery sensation to just being hollow. I have to pee. I stopped shaking a couple hours ago; I can't feel my fingertips. My mouth is dry from hanging open so long but I can't wet it or swallow. Breathing has to be kept shallow but that makes me sleepy; I don't know why.

I'm pretty sure a fucking _crow_ gave me a sad look, but I'm still waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

"Harry?"

Is it ironic that he calls my name out now the way I wanted him to say it this morning?

"_Harry?_"

All I can think is _please, please don't leave because you can't see me! I'm right here! Behind this tree! Look, angel, please._

I raise my right hand from the muck and let it fall; dead weight. It's vaguely amazing that I can't feel it hit the ground again, but the wet slap spurs Draco's steps closer.

I'm finished waiting.

I want to go _home_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Oh, _Harry_." I can't hold back disbelief at this moment. There's no point in not acknowledging how awful he looks. I can't imagine how awful he feels.

"Open your eyes to show me you're awake." He complies, shutting them fiercely again. They burn the colour of poppies; anything that _should_ be white in them is instead an angry red. There's grit in them, that's why. He can't get the sand out himself.

_Oh, Harry_ about sums up everything wrong with him.

"I'm not sorry for this, you understand that? This was a lesson in 'no means no', alright? You get it?" He nods his head once in understanding.

"You promise to listen to me from now on? If you don't, I'm leaving you out here without a second thought, fucktard."

It's not like he has much of a choice, but he nods again.

"Good. Now let's get you back up to the castle, you look a mess."

I carefully remove the extra cloak that I'm wearing and pull him up enough to wrap it around his shoulders, cautious not to jostle anything too much. With the combination of a deep will and a mild levitation charm I pick him up with ease and begin to slowly pick my way back along the now well beaten path, sidestepping the pools of swirling filth along the way. He clutches softly at the back of my neck and his hands are the clammy cold of ice. There is no warmth there, not even the hint of it. They're like the fingers of the dead, curled about my throat.

I watch his mouth and pull him against my chest just to check that he's still breathing. I can't feel his breathing even, but the flickering of his blue eyelids tells me that he's not _quite_ dead yet. Not at this very moment at least.

That's all I concentrate on for the rest of our journey too; checking that his eyes are still flickering because it's the only difference between him and a corpse at the moment. I thank whatever gods are looking over us today because the cloudy, overcast sky keeps any living creature out of our way. No one sees us cross the threshold of the forest or enter the castle. Not a single Slytherin soul litters the common room to watch us transverse its stone floors.

We're all alone. Just the two of us.

And once inside my private room, inside the cool tiled walls of my bathroom, I feel safe again. It's funny that this is where it all started too, that day when I found out that I couldn't talk anymore. But that seems like a hundred years ago, really. Right now we'll be ok, he'll live.

I slump him in a corner and run a bath, the water steaming but not boiling hot. With its quiet sound in the background I begin remove my cloak and roll up my sleeves to untie the laces of his shoes, removing them, his soaking socks, trousers…

It's the reverse situation of the time where he had to clean me up; and having each other naked is certainly nothing new. It's also certainly nothing sexual.

Harry screams bloody murder when his feet touch the water, but I leave him in it and add another silencing charm to the layers already embedded around my bedroom walls. Sitting at the baths side my hands have to curl around my ears to dampen the sound. It's not _really_ boiling or anything, it's just that his extremities are so sodden and chilled that they feel as though on fire.

I want to cry.

It takes an entire hour to wash the bits of brambles from his hair and scrub the layer of sandy grime from his skin. The mop on his head turns the colour of wet onyx when it's wet and after a lot of work it feels soft and smooth again. I card through its knots with my fingers first, then a comb. I change the water twice and just keep scrubbing his skin, careful not to ignore his fingernails or behind his ears. Everything must be back to normal before I can feel like a human being again.

Human beings shouldn't do this to each other. _Normal_ people don't do this to each other.

He barely has enough strength to sit up straight on the bench in my shower, but he manages it because I order him to. Once he's properly wrapped in my thickest black towels I can continue my cleansing work; it takes ten full minutes of rinsing charms to wash every bit of grit from his emerald eyes and replace the red in them with white.

And then for the throat.

I can tell that it pains him the worst; he scrunches up his face and tears leak from between his closed lids every time he swallows. His entire body pulls away from me when I lift glasses of water to his lips; he won't drink. I carefully brush his teeth for him and then bring the first of two bottles for swelling and pain up to his lips.

"Drink this." I whisper, but he simply purses his lips and refuses to sip it.

I sigh with exasperation but won't raise my voice. "I promise that this will make it better, but you have to drink it. Now do it."

He takes a single breath and swallows a great amount of the bottle in one gulp, only to sit crying not unlike a baby for a great number of moments. Eventually the potion kicks in and his breathing returns to a semi normal state; the blue tint of his lips is gone but even after the bath his fingers and toes still feel cold.

Nothing I can't fix eventually, right?

And then I bundle him up in fleece and soft wool in my bed and slip in beside him. Our stomachs grumble at the same time; I smile and his face quirks into what _could_ be a half smile. Or a grimace, I'm not really sure. I pull one of his hands from the cocoon of blankets and entwine my fingers with his, sure that my heat will warm him up eventually. Wake him up.

"The paper today was no good Harry. The Ministry is trying to purge the world of all Death Eater family and friends so I'll be expecting a visit from some Aurors tomorrow. I won't be here when you wake up, but if they come looking for me, tell them I'm on the grounds. Tell them I'll be by the lake, ok?"

I squeeze his fingers once, looking for an answer, and he squeezes back, feebly. My face is buried in the back of his neck; I inhale his light, clean scent of shampoo and ginger soap and my breath makes the faint hairs on the back of it stand on end; he shivers once. His breath is exhaled in tiny puffs that are cool and smell of eucalyptus. I did quite the bang up job of cleaning him up, if I say so myself.

And then his gravelly voice rumbles into my ears, his first words since I picked him up.

"Truth or dare?" his whispers.

I groan.

"No more. This is it. This should end Harry, we should be above this."

He sighs.

"One more. Choose." I won't respond, so he continues talking to fill in the time. His voice is like tires on gravel roads; it crunches and breaks and snaps from the abrasions of dirt. It might not pain him to speak right now, but that doesn't mean that the inside of his throat almost certainly resembles ground beef. "We can stay together after and look back at this, knowing that we ended the game properly. One more, then we're done the game. Just choose."

I bite my lip to mull it over in silence as he grips my hand tighter with his frigid fingertips.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_One more? Just one? It could all be over…the game that is. Not us. Never us._

"Dare." I whisper into his skin. He shivers, only to grin for real this time.

_One more can't hurt, could it?_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you to:

******Emnm407,** **mordechaimalachai,** **Zarah,** **JPhinala,** **Angelus Micheal,** **x Tommy x S x,** **doralinda,** **Julia,** **punkchick99,** **brionyjae,** **iamanevilgenius,** **Jess,** **loladear,** **nickainai,** **Bad fairy,** **TwistedLuver,** **Spixilah,** **txcalbud,** **Vampire Louis,** **Asato Sohma,** **-Fire-Arisa-Ice-**& **Crythor **!

Keep reviewing,

mintapotter


	33. But I Said No, You're Not the One For Me

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author:** mintapotter

**A/N: **This one goes out to **iamanevilgenius**!(Yes, yes you are.)

(Lyrics from 'Black Horse and a Cherry Tree by KT Tunstell.)

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 33 - But I Said No, You're Not the One For Me

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_A mutual hatred._

_That's all we had before, during, and now after the game._

_That's all, right?_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Harry wouldn't wake up if I screamed bloody murder into his ears for an hour. His mind might always be up to play but his body had taken a toll and needed time to recuperate. I watched him for a few minutes just to make sure that his breathing was coming regularly. A part of me wanted to put a cold cloth on his forehead, hold his hand and wait until he woke. The other part of me wanted to be out on the grounds, breathing fresh air for what may be my last time. So I left him there in my bed, lain low in the heart of snake territory and left for a stroll of the school grounds.

I wanted a breath of fresh air before the Ministry inevitably showed up to 'interview' me. Interrogation, more like.

And after weeks and weeks of poor weather -misty rain sprinkling through with the occasional thunderstorm thrown in- it was about damn time for a sunny day. The fog and mist have a way of sucking the joy out of life; gray days always feel dreary.

Today the sky was an unnatural aquamarine dome, capping the vibrant greens and deep browns of the flora adorning the grounds of Hogwarts. If there was a cloud to be seen, I couldn't see it. And all this combined seemed to give the students and staff buzzing through the halls spring fever like never before, but I couldn't care how they felt because I couldn't feel it.

The air was so humid and warm that it felt thick to walk through, like a soft caress of silk. I wanted to be carefree, to run through it without a worry. I wanted to play a quick game of Quidditch with somebody, anybody. I wanted to sit on the grass and pretend to be able to tan. I wanted the freedom of childhood back.

But I was wearing formal robes that stuck to my skin in the wet air, and my gums were sore from abuse and neglect. The bruise that had started out purple and blue on my chin had spread up to encompass an eye. I could try and act superior all I wanted today and everyone would just see a pale, clammy, beaten and battered boy.

My stomach rumbled roguishly and I ignored my impulse to eat because anything more solid than water caused an inordinate amount of pain from the still fresh hole in my mouth. It hurt to _think_ about food. So I found a patch of grass by the lake and sat to wait it out. I hated to admit that I was tired, or in pain. I wanted to be invincible. I wanted to do what I wanted when I wanted it. I wanted the rush of power that came along with being in control of Harry, even if it was only for a few minutes.

I closed my eyes and smiled; I wanted _everything_, all at once.

My eyes had barely been closed a moment before I could feel other eyes on me, pairs and pairs of them. The people weren't speaking, but their silent stares spoke volumes. These Aurors had been warned that I was unstable, perhaps? That the bruises were there because I was in a relationship that was abusive at best. That I might snap at someone who approached me, or lapse into silence.

Everyone is afraid of the different, the unexplained, the wild. And I was a wild, wild card.

"You wouldn't be looking for me, would you? Because I was just sitting here waiting for a visit and I'd hate to be interrupted before they came."

I opened my eyes to take in a crew of six watching me patiently in a half circle, all faces a little wary. Dumbledore was there, as was Snape and four, _four_, Aurors. Like they thought I'd fight. Like they thought I'd run.

"Mr. Malfoy, please come with us. You seem to already know what is going on here, as I'm sure the papers have warned you."

Dumbledore could pretend that I was a normal pupil and he a normal headmaster and that this could go smoothly. I could go along with it.

But I was tired of playing nice. I was skipping school, meals, and the need to be polite. I still wanted my day to myself, and the Aurors were interrupting me.

"Well sir," I said as I rose to my feet, "what do these kind men have to ask me? I don't have any connections to the Death Eaters, so obviously I can't be of any help to you."

One of the younger Aurors actually scoffed before he caught everyone's death glares and had the sense to look ashamed. I found it amusing that these full grown men weren't leading us back to the school; I was. They followed like a pack, and only Snape and Dumbledore had the balls to walk in line with me. A bloodied face goes a long way to throw people off balance.

"Mr. Malfoy, we would prefer to conduct our interview with you in the privacy of the Headmasters office, if that would suffice." It was the older Auror speaking, the one with the most authority and practice. "It shouldn't take more than hour, we believe. And everything you tell us will be held in the utmost confidence."

"And you're telling me all this because I'm my own guardian now, is that it? You need my permission to conduct the interview?" I turned just long enough to watch the Auror nod his head in consent, and I turned away quickly. It was in my very being to dismiss people who weren't worth my time.

"Oh! So you don't want to ask my parents if I can…oh wait, they're dead." Cynicism was dripping from my words and everyone could pick up on it. "And because they're dead, I wouldn't have any connections to the Death Eaters so _why are you here?_ Maybe no-one told you that I haven't been having the best few months, or have they? I thought the look of my face would tell you off and-"

"Draco." Snape cut into my speech before I could pick up enough steam, and his on glare was enough to shut me up, if only for a moment. "Just let these men do their job and then you can go back to yours." We all continued the trek to the headmaster's office in silence after that, but I alone could hear the words that Snape longed to say. He wanted to add _and what is it that you do all day Draco? Fuck up your life with that Potter boy?_ He wanted to warn me off being a prick to these men because he was going through the same questioning as I was. He was warning me with a look and nothing else.

So I shut my mouth and listened, and I answered their questions. It didn't take much time for me to realize that this interview was special, and I would be here for much longer than and hour.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

My brain was pounding a tattoo on the inside of my skull that woke me from a most deep and pleasant slumber. The first thing I did was to check and see if Draco was sleeping beside me; no dice there. Remembering that he had warned me that he would be gone by the time I woke, I decided against going to look for him – Aurors were probably already keeping him busy. I tried to swallow but the raw meat of the lining in my throat strongly protested. There would be hardly more than a whisper out of me all day, that much was sure.

Forcing myself out of bed and into a respectable set of Draco's robes took more time than it should have, but the lethargy would wear off slowly. My stomach even grumbled loudly – twice- so that I couldn't ignore my hunger much longer, but a trip to the Great Hall looking as I was would be disastrous. I decided quickly that nipping down to the kitchens would be a much better plan, but lying innocently outside Draco's bedroom door was something that I couldn't tear my eyes from. The headline of the day's paper was bold and to the point, horrifyingly so.

**5 AURORS FAMILIES DEAD IN DEATH EATER ATTACKS: MINISTRY VOWS REVENGE**

My mind instinctively snapped to Draco; Would this change anything? Would the Ministry be harsher than before? Would they be handing out life sentences rather than slaps on the wrist?

Would they take Draco as a scapegoat?

That, I decided, was a stupid question. _Of course _they wanted Draco as a scapegoat; having a Malfoy in Azkaban would look good in print. Draco would be on their top ten list of people to talk to, no doubt. And with the attacks only a night before…Draco was in for a long day.

On my way to the Headmaster's office I stopped in front of a wide open arched window, and had to stand still in slight shock for a moment. I had had a stroke of brilliance as to the dare…THE dare, to end all games. It would take Draco by surprise, it would hurt his reputation…it would prove that he would do anything for me. After this, I could trust him to kill for me. To keep every secret I could give him. To do as I told him and I would never have to worry about where his loyalty lay. He'd be mine; mind, body and soul.

I stared out into the clear blue sky and laughed till my throat bled, until I was hacking blood onto the floor. I laughed until I cried, and the mixture made several students rethink walking down the hallway near me. The sound of my laughter alone was enough to make anyone's hair stand on end; it wasn't a joyous laugh. It was Voldemort's cackle, more like, the sound of victory.

_This_, I thought to myself, _is the end._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The Aurors questions were getting worse by the minute. It started off innocently and barely an hour later, now, they were blatantly accusing me forthright of things I didn't even know happened. Dumbledore and Snape did little more then stand in the shadows and watch, and I could do little more than deny their accusations and keep myself from screaming in anguish.

The Ministry needed a scapegoat, and no-one fit the bill quite like a Malfoy.

They blamed me for plots I hadn't known of, they tried to get me to confess to killing people I didn't know were dead. They asked if I knew of any kidnappings that my father had committed, or if I was at all involved with him and his sordid affairs.

I wanted to scream at them at the top of my lungs _"I've done nothing more than fuck around with Harry Potter for months, so jail me for that if anything!"_

I didn't breathe a word about Harry though, because at the rate these gentlemen were going they just _might_ jail me for defiling Potter.

Only one spoke at a time, but the questions were nonstop and I was hard pressed just to follow their train of thought. They stood opposite me around the Headmasters desk, pacing and spitting questions out like venom.

"Where were you the night of January the fourth?"

"Who were your parents closest friends?"

"Would you raise the hem of your robes on you left arm?"

I responded to each question with an equal amount of venom, and bared my left arm with pride. Voldemort would never mark me for his dirty work; my skin was owned by Potter. They should know this.

I tried and tried to cut the questions short; a dull pulse was beginning behind my eyes and my stomach actually _hurt_ whenever I thought of food. I needed a break. I needed a rest. I needed a glass of water.

They weren't listening.

I saw Dumbledore leave from the corner of my eye, and in that split second I knew that Harry was here. Not to save me, not in the normal sense, but he had inevitably woken up and found me here. He would be my most welcome escape, if I could only get away from these men and to him soon.

"- are you avoiding the question, Mr. Malfoy?"

I turned back to the eldest Auror, the one with the most bite in his words and slowly shook my head. I wanted away from him the most; he spat when he spoke and I was tired of wiping his slobber off my face.

"No _sir_, I was only distracted. If we could break for just a moment and reconvene-"

"You are AVOIDING the question! Now answer me this-"

"Sirs."

Dumbledore interrupted just as the Auror was picking up steam. "Mr. Malfoy is requested outside the room, but I will ensure that he returns shortly."

"By whom?" the younger Auror asked, never missing a beat.

Dumbledore smiled almost wearily and gave me the tiniest look. "Harry Potter. And he's requesting only to see Draco here for a moment."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Harry. You're looking…"

"Shut up." He whispered back, his hand massaging his throat as he spoke.

"What are you doing here? I'm just a tad preoccupied at the moment."

Harry stood in silence to simply stare at the door from which I had come; the same one keeping the Aurors and their questions at bay. Never was I so happy to see him or so scared to have to leave him. I wanted him to whisk me away.

I wanted _everything_ I asked for _right fucking now_, but I wasn't going to get it. This was no escape mission on his part.

His gravelly voice rumbled slowly, each word dropping with extreme effort.

"I've got a dare for you."

My hand slams into the wall behind me without a second's thought. Frustration isn't even the _word_ for what I feel right now.

"This really, really isn't the time or place, Harry."

He smiles again, rubbing his throat absentmindedly.

"No, I think this is the perfect time and place Draco. Just listen."

My shoulders collapse as I slide down the wall to sit on the ancient floors. The whole of my body is one tired mess so if I have to sit through this right now, I might as well do it in comfort.

"Those Aurors want you to be their scapegoat, right?" I nod.

"I dare you to tell them what they want. Break down and tell them that _you_ killed those five Aurors families last night. Tell them that it was revenge for your parents. That you enjoyed it. Tell them anything and they'll lap up every word and send you-"

"-straight to Azkaban, you idiot."

"Exactly."

The word hangs in the air thick as dust, full of the malice and perverse fun that only Harry could have with a plan like his. He doesn't see the problem in me lying to other people, the _government_, or going to jail for years, perhaps for life.

Perhaps to the Kiss that'll seal my fate.

"I won't do it." The whisper falls from my lips like it's a shameful sentence but I don't hang my head; I stare directly at Harry with all the defiance in me that I can muster.

"Of course you will. It's the last dare, and then after this-"

"I said NO, Harry. No. I won't do it."

His eyes flutter only a moment; it's the disbelief running all over his face. He thought he could coerce me into it. He really thought that I would go so, _so_ far, just for him. If he were normal anymore he might fight me for it, yell, or back down. He smiles instead.

Always a smile with him.

"Come on Drake…Draco. It's so perfect, can't you see? No-one saw us yesterday. _Everyone_ knows now that you're all bloodied up and so am I…they'll all believe me when I tell them that I tried to stop you. That we fought before you got away, and that you killed-"

"I thought I taught you the meaning of the word 'no', Potter. I don't accept the dare. The game, along with you and I, is over." Each hissed word drops as a stone would with great importance. I mean what I say and say what I mean; it's over.

I'm sick of this.

I'm sick of him.

I'm sick to my bones and the only way out of it is to _stop_.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"You can't mean that. You…you really mean that?"

Draco nods, mouth drawn together in a thin line and his eyes narrowed. _Of course_ he means it; I just don't want to believe it.

All I wanted was one last dare, can't he see that?

"Goodbye, Potter. Leave now. Just leave."

He inches his way up the wall again little by little, all the while holding my stare and not backing down once. Draco's mouth might be silent but his eyes are screaming _get out, go away, never, ever come back._

_You're not wanted here any longer_.

So I turn. I walk to the door and open it slowly, consciously smoothing the emotion and tension from my shoulders and back. I don't look back as I go, I don't offer and good will or good luck.

It's over and done with, just like we said it would always be. We are back to being strangers with nothing more in common than our mutual hatred of each other.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_A mutual hatred._

_That's all we had before, during, and now after the game._

_That's all, right?_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you, oh reviewing faithful: **harrydracoyaoichix22,** **xxBrokenxxAngelxx,** **doralinda,** **x Tommy x S x,** **mordechaimalachai,** **isidoria.isi,** **DeathOfAMortal,** **brionyjae,** **Catchy Turn,** **pinkythepowerpixie,** **JPhinala,** **iamanevilgenius,** **hp nerd,** **blazville,** **Julia,** **nomad,** **emeraud.silver,** **Jess,** **Nasyki,** **kenshin.kyo,** **MimiTaylor,** **Asato Sohma,** **-Fire-Arisa-Ice-,** **wondererx,** **Crythor,** **Zarah,** **nickainai,** **Bad fairy **& **Julie Long **!

BTW, this is nearing the end but not quite done.

Please keep reviewing,

luv mintapotter


	34. Take Me Home

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **This came much quicker than the last few chapters... This weeks shout out goes to **CanYouLovetheImaginary **becuase yeah, I think we all do...As well, this weeks title is from the song 'Free Until They Cut Me Down' by Iron & Wine.

Enjoy!

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 34 - Take Me Home

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I just need something to show me I'm still alive. That my heart is still beating beneath my ribs and blood is still ebbing and flowing in my veins._

_And with the double edged razor I stole from the potions labs, I think I know just the thing_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

No rest for the wicked.

My prayers for sleep seem to go unanswered for hours as I lie awake in bed. Maybe the red of Gryffindor sheets and bedspreads makes it difficult to rest after living within navy blue so long. Maybe nausea and depression make it hard to fall under, I don't know. It's only mid afternoon but just because the sun is shining doesn't mean that I need to be up or about. I want to wallow in my own self pity for a while, thank you. I could pull _Woe is me_ for hours, days, months if you let me.

Where, where, WHERE did everything go so wrong? And why would he tell me no? Was everything in vain, were all the months and trials and struggles and moments for nothing?

My thoughts can't help but to race to the next conclusion; I am worth nothing?

And at this point I have to roll off the bed and pace or cry, because my only measurement of self-worth just left me. I judged myself on Draco for everything. If he was hurt that meant that I was strong. If he was happy that showed that I could be kind and nice too. And when we are together…were… it meant that I was worth something, if only to him.

He needed me enough to stay and play along for so much time, but if he could refuse me so quickly and adamantly…maybe I was a plaything? A pretty toy that lost its luster?

Where the _fuck_ is my anger right now? I need some potent fucking rage right now to put me right; if I could just land myself in one good fight with Ron it would knock my head clear of all these treacherous thoughts. Fighting and fucking are two very separate things, but both very simple. The first is the need to beat your opponent, the second…well basically the same thing. The basic human need to win, conquer, destroy. One is rage and the other is lust.

And being denied both at the same time is _hard_.

And no I don't miss him because to miss him we'd have to have been close to start with. I have to suck it up and admit that it was a fling. A game.

Just a game; someone had to lose and someone had to win.

I lost.

_Fuck_.

"FUCK!" I scream at the empty dorm and hope that someone around hears me. "WOULDN'T SOMEONE GET ME A GODDAMN DRINK?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Pansy, come over here quick! I heard that Potter fucking _lost_ it last night and McGonagall herself had to escort him to the Infirmary!"

A gasp. "You _can't_ be serious! Again?"

"Yeah." A curt nod of the head, sagely. "A little bird told me he started with a couple butterbeers he stole from the kitchens and then ripped through two whole mickeys of firewhisky! He's thrown up half his body weight by now and the professors were all going to chuck him out but he's vowed to go back to classes and act the good boy again. You just_ know_ that codger Dumbledore will let him back in on another chance-"

"Fuck, that kid gets away with anything!"

A sigh. "I _know_. He'll be back in classes by the end of the week, but I'm not sure our resident crazy will get back into the stream at all. Apparently, since neither of them even _has_ parents to take care of them they'll just have to stay over the summer to make up their lost work."

She laughs. "Malfoy, the resident crazy…He'd _kill _if he heard us saying that! He's the reason Potter lost it last night- they went splitsville, I heard- and he's been holed up in his room since he came back in yesterday-"

A lightening quick glance over her shoulder. "_Fuck! He's right over there!"_

A wave of her hand. "Don't worry on it. It's not like he can hear us or anything."

You.

Wish.

You stupid fucking bitch-whores. You skanky gossip mongering sluts. You don't know the half of it. I know the whole story about us going 'splitsville' and _yes_ I've left my room since yesterday, it's just that no-one saw me. I enjoy my walks in solitude and sits by the lake where I don't have to deal with the stares and gossip of every goddamn girl in the entire goddamn school.

Fuck.

After my interrogation, and after Harry had left for good I sort of…lost it too? I didn't need to drink at the time; my brain was crazy enough as is. It was just hard going from that one awful moment to the next, waiting and worrying all the time that Harry would come back angry, or that the Ministry would chuck me into Azkaban and no one would try and get me out.

Worry has become a permanent knot of energy, constantly curled up in my stomach. It replaces what was once 'hunger'- I couldn't eat yesterday and I can't eat now. I don't ever want to again, I can't explain why, it just is.

And me? The 'resident crazy' of Slytherin? I deserve a title with some more flair, at the very least. Perhaps I'm a little…too unstable to rejoin classes as fast as Harry is, but that's not my fault. It really isn't. It's the chemical imbalance in my brain that makes me feel this way all hollow and light, like I'm floating. I'm not hungry and I don't feel like 'talking out my feelings' with anyone. I'm alone and that's the way I like. I'm single.

Single, like I was 'taken' before. Hah. What a laugh Harry would have to hear that one. Me his boyfriend and he mine. Together.

I just need time. All the time I can get to gather my thoughts and heal as I should have for the past few months. I'll get back into classes as soon as all my bruises fade. As soon as my clothes stop smelling like Harry. As soon as food stops revolting me.

As soon as normal becomes a term used to describe me again.

Sane.

Stable.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It's hard to concentrate in class when every set of eyes spends more time on your back than on the blackboard. I can almost smell wool smoking as I feel the stares burning holes through my robes and I can hear every whisper talking about my name or his. It's partially truth and partially paranoia. That I know.

That doesn't make 'fitting back in', as Dumbledore would put it, any easier.

But I won't sit next to anything red-headed or bushy haired. I keep my posture pin-strait in every wooden chair I sit in, always in the first row. The muscles in my back scream to slouch but the dull ache they give me keeps me awake far better than any shot of caffeine could. I don't raise my hand to answer and I don't ask questions. I sit. I listen. I take notes and complete the assignments, write up my essays and stir my potions just the right amount clockwise or other.

Bliss is in the details.

Spend enough time memorizing a table of potions ingredients or dates of vampire revolts and you'll forget who you are and where you are in that moment. I lost the daily distraction of Draco and gained a nasty hangover and months-worth of missing assignments. The monotonous pile of homework combined with classes and meals force me to wake long before the sun and sleep after midnight, every night.

These distractions keep me sane and the closest thing to happy as I can get.

When I'm busy scratching at parchment with a quill or wiping up ink while working on my bed I'm not bothering my dorm-mates and they know better than to bother me. We live together now in only the most basic sense; everyone gets that I'm not in the mood for talking. Ron doesn't shake me awake because I'm gone long before he wakes up. Neville doesn't whine that I leave towels on the floor anymore because I don't. We're like distant neighbors more than dorm-mates now.

Whenever I feel angry with someone or sad about something I breathe deep and grab another overdue essay from the pile and dive into it. I head down to the library and force myself to carry (not levitate) all the reference books I'll need back up to the dorm. I pulled a muscle in my shoulder on Tuesday and tore a ligament in my left arm Wednesday night. But it was worth it, so worth it.

I can't eat, think, live, breathe or sleep without Draco around. But when I drown myself in other thoughts and exhaust my body and brain enough…I can make it.

An exhausted body doesn't care how broken your heart feels. When you don't have enough energy to cry before bed, you don't. Once my eyelids can't physically stay apart enough to read anymore, then I sleep. Once my stomach is so hungry that the growls are distracting from my work, I eat. And that's the way I'll keep myself going until I can't do it anymore. I'll run on fumes until this withdrawal I feel goes away or I break down.

Whichever comes first.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Some facts I've discovered about life in general.

When your body undergoes a lot of stress, it lets certain parts feel the strain. Like the hair on your head might fall out a bit. Not enough that anyone would notice (not yet, anyway) but I keep pulling loose a couple extra blonde strands every time I shower and comb my hair.

It's freaking me out.

Another fact? Coffee, water and tea have quite basically no nutritional value, so though I drink them often throughout the day I can't quite rid myself of hunger pains. And those fuckers _hurt_ and I've been fantasizing over shepards pie for a couple days now. The next time they serve it in the Great Hall I'm going fuck all and eating as much as I can. I don't care how much I'll throw back up from breaking my fast too suddenly.

Last fact is that men simply cannot cry gracefully.

There I was, taking a quiet walk of the grounds shortly before sundown when I caught the sound of sobbing on the wind. At first I thought that my mind was playing tricks on me because I often get dizzy when I walk too long these days. So I tucked my scarf closer to me, into my trench coat to keep warm, and kept walking.

And then I heard it again, louder and definitely close by. So, naturally curious, I stopped to listen and watch.

And there he was, around the bend. Harry, on all fours beside one of the enormous elm trees that grow along the edge of the lake, sobbing. A pile of books was sprawled haphazardly beside him, some of the spines broken, the pages torn or the covers being slowly soaked in puddles and Harry couldn't give a fuck. He just knelt in the wet grass, his hands shaking against his jet hair or ripping at the grass.

He was truly breaking down, this one.

Back to my point though, of men not being able to cry gracefully? It must be impossible because Harry is a beautiful boy. I have trouble admitting it but it's true; he's got fine features and his body is…well it's a gift to him. But with his glasses skewed beside him and all the muscles in his jaw pulling his mouth open with sobs, cries and gasps…I can't explain how singularly sad and depressing that picture is. Ugly even, in the expressions rawness.

Eventually he started to slow down and his hands calmed a bit; they linked behind his head a moment before groping around for his glasses. I was leaning against another tree not far from him for support and decided that this was a good time for me to go and drink some more tea or something.

And then his trembling fingers found his glasses and he slipped them on and stared straight at me, first thing. So I stopped and stared right back, not twenty feet from him, at the boy I wanted and couldn't possibly have. I raised a finger to my lips to gesture him silent and turned to go.

I didn't want to know why he was crying and I didn't want to run back there and comfort him, undo my jacket and keep him warm beneath it. I didn't want to rub his fingers warm and kiss his rain slicked hair.

I couldn't want it because those things led back to a place worse than where I was right then. All those things led into something I don't need.

And he called out "Come back, just once. Please Draco, let me talk with you."

So I stopped and called back "Here?" without turning to see him. I could picture him kneeling back and sitting on his heels, his knees soaked through and sinking through the mud and him not caring for the entire world. He'd be watching me and praying that I'd come back.

And he said "Yes. Please, here."

And then I left.

I'll go back to meet him when I'm good and ready. I'll let him exhaust himself a little further in class and I'll let myself go a little more on this diet of solitude.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Harry's –"

"Hermione, do I _look_ like I want to talk about Harry?"

A puff of air in exasperation. "_No_, but I wouldn't have started talking about him unless I didn't care, not would I?"

Ron scoffs. "What is it then?"

"He's changing again. I know he broke up with Malfoy, if you could call them 'dating' before but…he's exhausting himself, Ron. He's gone completely mental with work and it seems like you guys in his dorm don't even care."

"That's cause we don't anymore."

"But why _not?_ He was your best friend not long ago Ron, remember that? We were right there with him not months ago, when we _really_ lost it and slashed himself up! If he did that again…"

Silence from Ron.

"You would still care Ron, you know you would."

"Not really. Not the same way. _Harry_ my best friend is probably dead and gone. The Harry we're left with is something else entirely. He's messed Hermione, broken, cracked, whatever. He's obsessed with himself and Malfoy and nothing else. This is just another phase before he lapses into something else."

"Come on Ron, we should do something to get him to slow down, eat properly at meals, sleep a bit. He's right over there, look. Across the common room. Don't tell me you can look at him and not want to help?"

Ron glances over his shoulder. "I actually can't quite muster it in me to give a fuck anymore, Mione, and neither should you."

Oh great.

I've got nothing left for me. Nothing. Not Draco, not Ron, and not Hermione. Dumbledore is exasperated with my teen angst bullshit and McGonagall is about one step away from suspending me. No one wants me. I want one thing and I can't have it.

Great.

Here I am, back to square one, feeling needlessly alone and desperately seeking out something to get rid of the loneliness. I want to feel something else, something happy. I want to prove that I still have other emotions than abandoned and miserable and depressed and longing.

I don't want to be this hollow anymore. I've gone two weeks on almost no sleep and nearly no food, no friends, no encouragement and no Draco. This is longer than most junkies can stay off their drug of choice before relapsing.

I've gone back to that stupid, stupid tree on that stupid spot near the fucking lake every day for a week and Draco hasn't shown yet. He's got all the power here because he's proven already that he doesn't really need me. He told me to _go, _in so many words. So he can choose to come or not to, at his whim, and he likes dragging me along for the ride. We glance at each other occasionally in the halls or on the grounds and he never smiles at me even though I do at him. He _looks _at me like I'm a pebble in the path or a leaf on the tree. Nothing interesting, nothing living or worth his time. The hollow feeling is getting worse. I'm feeling empty; null and void.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_I just need something to show me I'm still alive. That my heart is still beating beneath my ribs and blood is still ebbing and flowing in my veins._

_And with the double edged razor I stole from the potions labs, I think I know just the thing_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thank you to: **JPhinala,** **Julia,** **blazville,** **mordechaimalachai,** **doralinda,** **brionyjae,** **missbarbie08,** **x Tommy x S x,** **faulted,** **isidoria.isi,** **Bad fairy,** **VeriAequeRedem,** **MimiTaylor,** **Abhorson,** **Vampire Louis,** **Kimberly X,** **iamanevilgenius,** **Asato Sohma,** **Catchy Turn,** **nickainai,** **plasticblue,** **txcalbud,** **xxBrokenxxAngelxx,** **CanYouLovetheImaginary,** **Jess **and **harrydracoyaoichix22 **!

Keep on reading and reviewing, and rockin...etc, etc...

See you next week.

mintapotter


	35. To The Lakeside Stones

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **This is short, but out quick. This weeks shout out is to: **Catchy Turn, **whose 'cheap thrills' seem fascinating! The song in the title is from the song 'Water to Sky' by Thea Gilmore.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 35 - To The Lakeside Stones

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_And the first thing on the docket, after we kiss and eat and sleep and revel in each other a moment or two…I want to teach Harry a lesson._

_And this time it'll be one he's sure not to forget._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Today is _really _the day.

It's got to be.

I've been putting my pretty little razorblade to good use, drawing the thinnest, most intricate lines on my arms. They criss-cross the old ones and the designs are getting more and more beautiful by the day. My drawing skills are better now, and after I sketch a little I sleep easier. I don't feel so sick or hollow during the day when I've got this to look forward to.

I've started going over his initials, the intricate _D.M._ etched into my own skin by myself not long ago. The scarred letters had just began to fade, but now they shine a deep maroon under firelight and they'll last longer. Forever I hope, if I can just get them wide enough, deep enough. Maybe if I etch it hard enough I'll carve his brand into myself straight to the bone.

But today had better be the day that Draco shows, because the lines are getting deeper and deeper because I need them to. It only hurts when you want it to and I _want _to hurt, but I'm used to the little scrapes that I started with. I need more, much, much more. So I push a little harder and bleed a little faster and every day hope that Draco shows up under the tree, so that I can stop all this.

When Draco's around, every cell in body knows that it's alive and well. When I get Draco back I don't need the pain of a razor to wake me up.

All he has to do is smile and that's the most exquisite pain imaginable.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

I've washed all of Harry from my clothes now, and I miss the scent so much that it hurts. I won't admit it but even sleeping in a bed alone is getting hard. I want something warm and very much human beside me, and it can't be anything but him.

Like anyone else would have me, now.

I've given up on dragging Harry through the mud. Enough is enough, so today I'm sitting and waiting it out for him.

Even though its springtime and Hogwarts is going through a particularly warm spell, I'm still feeling cold. That's what excessive weight loss does to you, goodness. My grey woolen trench coat and white knit scarf are quickly becoming old friends to me. I wrap myself in layers every day right after a hot shower but that even doesn't seem to help too long. Not only that, but I'm on the last notch in my belt and there's nothing smaller to _be_. If I shrink anymore all I'll be is skin and hair and bones. Skin and bones.

A thin layer of plastic covering stretched too thin over a bony frame.

A walking corpse.

Oh wait, but without the hair because that seems to be leaving me too, albeit slowly.

But here I am now, wrapped up and waiting for Harry to show beneath our appointed tree. It's nearly sundown and everyone else is inside or at the Quidditch pitch, watching the match. I think it's Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor, but that might be wrong. Maybe it's Ravenclaw? It's difficult to remember.

And here's Harry now, his skin and clothes tinged a soft pink from the sunset, making his sallow colorings appear healthy. He approaches warily and doesn't smile or speak, simply brushing clear a spot of ground near me from debris and sitting down. His gray slacks and black sweater seem to be fitting a little looser than only a week ago. Or was it two weeks?

I can't seem to keep anything straight in my head.

And without whispering a word he slowly pulls back the sleeve on his shirt, the sleeve over his left arm but I can already tell what I'll see there. The little cuts on his wrist are slowly scabbing over but the deep ones nearer to the crook of his arm still look pretty fresh and scream an angry red against his white, white skin. It's like swirls of wine tainting a pitcher of cream and without thinking my fingers reach out to soothe his skin and I have to breathe carefully to keep from crying. He pulls away from my touch and our eyes meet a moment, his questioning my affection. He didn't expect me to care at all, apparently.

He is prepared for the worst, at least.

"How long?" I whisper.

He shrugs and holds the hem of the sleeve down over his hand again, the black of the cloth hiding the wet spots of blood on it. His eyes wander across the lake, the black bags under them telling all the tales of lost sleep and hours awake spent wondering and worrying. He's a right mess, this one.

So why in the fuck is he the only one I want? And why do I care so much?

"Why? Why that again?"

He shrugs again, his face scrunching up for a moment in something like agony and then smoothing again. "It proves that I'm still here I guess. It's the only real thing I feel all day and it's a reminder that I _can_ feel something, even if it's just pain. It helps me sleep. It hurts the way I wish you'd hurt me." He licks his lips slowly and shrugs again, his fingers stretching and pulling over and over into the grass. He rips it to shreds, but softly and slowly.

He remains quiet.

"You want me to hurt you? You still want that after…after it all?"

He turns to look at me again, his eyes sparkling clear, alert. "If you'd like to, you could."

"Don't…don't play games with me Potter." He hisses at his last name and I concede that reverting back to last names is too far. "Harry. Why are you really here, just to show me your bloodied arm expect sympathy? That I'll come back to you because you _need _me or something?"

"No, no, no…You. You need me too, and you can't pretend that you don't. You're sick and only getting sicker, I can see it clearer than anything. And so am I. And we can both fix this, remedy this, if we just…if…"

I can't help but snort at the childish hopefulness in his voice. "If _what_ Harry? If we get back together, just like we were before? Because you know, we were _definently _doing better back then, that's for sure. Yeah, those times were all just fucking rainbows and fairies."

My rising voice and sarcasm hit something in Harry; I can tell that he's worried that I don't take this seriously.

"No! Not like that, I'll change. I swear Draco, I can change, I can change for you, I will…"

And there go the tears again, unbidden and frightening in their speed. He turns his face away from me, trying to keep his composure by hiding them with his hands and failing miserably in the attempt.

And that scratchy feeling in my throat is back and I don't like to admit it, but this is hurting to watch. He's desperate. He's sobbing at the _idea_ of losing his chance. And he's _willing_ to listen this time, to change as I need him to, to accept what I tell him. He's learned his lesson and I'm only hurting myself if I don't see this too.

I wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders and pull him towards me, his wet face quickly burrowed in my sharply boned shoulder. The heavy weight of another person, so warm and alive beside me seems foreign. I haven't spoken or touched anyone in far too long.

"Change how?" I murmur into his hair, planting a delicate kiss into it. It smells like I remembered and I want to devour him again. I want this all back, but my way.

"However you want me to. Any way you need, I'll do it. Just…just come back. Please Draco, please…"

I lower my voice to a deeper whisper, so that by no chance in hell could anyone overhear us.

"But I liked you just the way you were Harry." He sniffles and pulls back, eyes bloodshot and watery and _confused_ beyond all belief. "But you were killing me then, and you're killing me now, and we can both see that. With or without you I'm just…lost. But when we're together at least-"

"-we're not alone." He finishes my sentence quietly, the roar of school fans in the background are completely ignored by us both. Like some silly game of Quidditch means anything to us anymore.

"I don't want to be alone again Draco, I don't ever want to be _this_. I'll change however you want me to, I'll do anything, be anything. I just want us to be together. Really, I want it this time. I'm yours."

Desperation is etched into his every feature, his every word. They hang in the air between us, his final plea, and I don't even have to think of an answer this time. His eyes even flit across my face, searching for my answer beneath the jet black peaks of eyelashes surrounding them.

I smile for the first time since _forever_ and he smiles back so hard that it's all teeth and it looks like it might hurt his face to stretch so far. "Anything?" I question.

My hands reach to wipe the tears from his cheeks as he responds. "Anything."

My smile widens to a smirk and I slink my fingers back to grab his hair and pull his lips closer to mine. I don't care that my insides feel like they're burning with acid or that his shirt is staining my coat red. I don't care that our kiss tastes like the salt from tears or that or teeth clack together once and the reverberations hurt my head.

This is better, this is good and this is what I've needed and wanted so long.

Harry's mine and he'll do anything I need of him. Anything I want.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_And the first thing on the docket, after we kiss and eat and sleep and revel in each other a moment or two…I want to teach Harry a lesson._

_And this time it'll be one he's sure not to forget._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thanks to: **iamanevilgenius,** **Julia,** **Catchy Turn,** **rachel,** **pureangel86,** **deessedumer,** **Asato Sohma,** **MimiTaylor,** **Jess,** **x Tommy x S x,** **Sy,** **xxBrokenxxAngelxx,** **nickainai,** **blazville,** **CanYouLovetheImaginary,** **mordechaimalachai,** **harrydracoyaoichix22,** **Bad fairy** & **emeraud.silver**!

I read every review and love getting them. Help keep me literate!

Love,

mintapotter


	36. It's A Disaster, It's An Incredible Mess

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: **I LOVED writing this chapter...I really need a good dose of fluff after this, and I think our boys do too! Shout out this week to **thrnbrooke **for reviewing!

This weeks chapter title is from the song 'It's A Disaster' by Ok Go.

Enjoy.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 36 - It's a disaster,

it's an incredible mess,

but it's all we've got now,

yeah it's all we got.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_This," I whispered just before falling asleep, stroking his neck and back in smooth circles, "is bliss."_

"_I know." He murmurs so quietly that I could feel his breath on my skin more than I could hear his words. "Welcome home."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After our meeting at the lake Harry and I were both so thoroughly tired that we barely dragged ourselves back to the Slytherin dorms in time to collapse into bed beside each other, curl up and fall asleep. It was not even past nine when fatigue caught up with us and it wasn't until nearly noon the next morning that I woke.

But Harry slept on, mouth agape and as helpless as a newborn baby in his slumber. So I got out of bed and quickly woke up properly once my feet hit the cold dungeon floors as I crossed them towards the bathroom. I poured some warm water and disinfectant potion into a cauldron and used that to carefully wash his scarring arm, taking special care both while removing his crusted sleeve from the cuts and while I bathed it. To tell the truth, I didn't think that I really had it in me to be _gentle_, the way kind people are. Harry barely stirred under my touch.

And he slept on.

And then I removed his trousers and set them with his sweater to be washed by the school house elves, leaving him shivering in the cold morning air in only his boxer shorts and a thin white top. You'd think that the movement and change in temperature would wake him? Oh no, not Harry.

And then a faint tinkling sound of falling silver on stone came from his pile of clothes and lo and behold, his ever faithful razor has fallen from one of his pockets, and landed not far from my foot. It looked to only be an innocuous shard of metal, nearly a mirror with its internal brilliance. Not two inches long and barely one wide, and thin as a strand of hair and _this_, this could slice through skin and tendon and muscle and even knick bone. If you really wanted to destroy a special someone, even yourself, I'm beginning to think that a razor is the way to go.

What did I first want to do with it? I wanted to cut so deep into his right wrist that there would be near permanent damage done to the nerves and then he would never even be able to hold a quill, a knife or fork or razor again, let alone control one enough to cut up his other arm. His left one was beginning to resemble a game of x's and o's played by a four year old with concentration problems. I wanted to cut through the tendons so deep that I ended up sawing through his poor, poor frail bones. I wanted them to snap under the pressure like an elastic band would; only splashing and spilling thick, rich blood as they did so.

Buckets and buckets of his blood and pain and ultimate suffering would suffice as a punishment for his intense stupidity, I would think.

But I had done _so much work_ cleaning the sores and wrapping them tenderly with care…but the razor could be a part of my plan. It could play in role in my 'talk' with Harry; more like my lecture on how things were going to change and how our future together was going to be.

And then the idea came to me, so simple and beautiful in its eloquence.

Harry's little friend would be the perfect instrument to keep him quiet while I talked. I summoned a roll of Spellotape, kept a vial of freezing pain potion close at hand, and propped his sleeping from up against the wall to begin with my ingenious plan.

Oh, how he'd despise me when he awoke.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Waking up in Draco's bed; nothing very new.

Waking up with my mouth taped shut; something new, and a little kinky.

Waking up to the sharp sting of a metal blade in your mouth and blood trickling down your throat; that's something awfully new and just a tad worrisome.

I spend moments probing at the _something _in my mouth, wondering what exactly it is and how it got to be there. My eyelids feel cemented together until a sharp sting, a thin slice from the roof of my mouth awakens me as only pain can. The flesh now hanging by a thin strip from the roof of my mouth feels like a ribbon peeling itself away from the palette on top. I lift my eyes to see Draco sitting at the foot of the bed I am propped up on and I stare into his eyes so grey they seem to be simply reflecting the colour of the stone surrounding us, questioning without using words. He smiles, catlike, and doesn't say a thing. He just sits at the foot of the bed, watching me slowly come back to consciousness, and smiling.

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine. You went out like a light after I brought you back here, didn't you? Had a nice sleep?" His voice is light as a feather and sharper than even the razor in my mouth. Yes, I now know it's a razor and yes, it's probably the one I've been using on my arms all this time.

That double edged blade that I left unceremoniously in my trousers pocket is now lying precariously on my tongue, neither blade quite cutting anything…as of now. It's a simple balancing act except that your tongue is always moving and it's surrounded by soft, pliable, soft-as-butter flesh. I can taste blood already; therefore the little razorblade is already nicking things up faster than a mouthful of nails. Oh and that ribbon of flesh? I can feel it just barely disconnecting and then slowly being swallowed along with all the blood that the now open wound is pouring.

Fabulous.

My fingers reach groggily to my lips to pull the sticky tape from them, but Draco tuts them away. My fingernails scratch raggedly and leave burning scratches before I stop though, and they're shaking with a will of their own. This is something that can go very, _very _wrong very, _very _fast.

"Now come on Harry, you think I'd let you off that _easy?_ So _simple?_ No, no, no…" He crawls up the satin bedspread, his each movement shifting the bed and me with it, making it more difficult to keep still.

"That is Spellotape dearest and it will only unstuck itself from your beautiful mouth when I want it to, and you know that as well as I do. Now listen me out and sit _very_ still and swallow…delicately around your little intrusion and everything will be just fine."

His voice is a low, cutting whisper, the words barely travailing the distance between his petal soft lips and my ears. I concentrate on them and his delicate throat, wishing that I could throttle him for this. That this razor was not balancing on my tongue, but instead stuck somewhere halfway down his throat. I'd cut out his _darling_ little voice box, if only I could.

"Now seeing as how you've already let yourself get nicked up a little in there," he comments unhurriedly, tracing a thin finger along the corners of my mouth where saliva and blood are no doubt pooling and spilling out. He wipes it away and smiles again, a toothy, vicious smile. "I think I should get on with my speech. You can only balance the thing so long before that wicked tongue of yours eventually cuts itself to pieces."

Oh, how he loves his little power plays.

"Now Harry, I've taught you that when I say no, no goes. There is no compromise here. That is a rule that you will follow _to the letter_ or you will lose everything. I will hurt you worse than this, I will leave you alone, and I will arrange it so that you will die in an inordinate amount of pain if you _ever_ make the _stupid_ mistake of crossing me again. Understood?"

I'm not in much of a position to refuse, but I wouldn't even if I could. Draco is a person to keep promises, most especially when they involve revenge or better yet, maiming and murder.

I nod carefully, barely tipping back my head to let it fall again.

I can count the wet, smooth edges of every sharp tooth this time, when he smirks in triumph.

"If we are to be together, I don't want any talk of us being apart, ever again. This is a contract Harry, and not one to be taken lightly. You will come when I ask and leave when I want you to. You will _always_ remember who you are to be faithful to, and you will never question me. Not ever. When we play games Harry, there will be rules and both of us will follow them. Is that all understood by you? That from now on I own as much of you as you do. I have a part and say in your free will, in your choices, in everything?"

I want to remark that I will own a bit of him back, that I should get to eat a bit of his soul if he gets to nibble on mine, but his eyes look a little mad; delirious, even. I nod again.

He leans in closer to me, stopping so that just his soft lips brush my cheek, and he begins to whisper. My eyes snap permanently open, watching and waiting for him to slap me or push my cheeks in together, towards the destructive shard of metal nestled between my teeth. I begin to count to ten slowly and try and calm my breathing, to pray that he won't come any closer to me. I pray that my stupid throat won't swallow from fear, and that I won't anger him in any way.

"You will _change_ Harry, for me, if you want me back. I love you, I really do, but you have to understand that there is a time and place for everything and it's not always the right time to hurt me, or control me, or overpower me. Sometimes I need a break, a nap, a rest. Sometimes I will ask for something _normal_ because I need a hint of sanity in my life. That's the way it's going to be from now on."

He kisses my lips softly, my mouth only registering the dangerous pressure and not the kindness in the gesture. My eyes have been open wide so long that they water on their own and two streams of fat tears push past the barrier of my eyelids, sliding down the hollows of my cheeks and he delicately licks them up, studying me with his head cocked to the side.

The edge of the razor suddenly slits a line down my tongue, the blood flowing swiftly and painfully from the probing muscle. I want to scream and tear at the tape, and I need to _swallow_ or cry or sob…but I can't. I pull away from Draco and sit up strait against his knobby headboard, every muscle in my body rigid with concentration. My spine is arching so far that I might just snap something, but I can't care about that now. Caught somewhere between agony and terror my fingers clutch at the satin bedspread beneath me, my knuckles white as the pearly bones stretching just beneath the skin.

The bleeding won't stop until he wants it to. I have no wand at my fingertips, and he has no words of sympathy to breathe upon me. He instead watches me a moment, probably to savor the morbid picture I'm painting in his mind and then brushes the back of my hand with his until I calm down and breathe in and out once more, each breath labored slowly through my nose.

"I can see that your good friend the razorblade has finally betrayed you my darling. Perhaps this will cure you of your cutting habit for once and all, yes?" I close my eyes, too scared to nod. He chuckles lowly to himself.

"My last demand is…" his voice trails off into a long pause, his hand still stroking mine, "well actually…I like the sex as it is. That we can keep without any grand changes because I like it just fine. And you agree to change what I want and keep what I like I think that perhaps we can make this work."

I open my eyes and stare directly in his, nodding with all the honor I can, trying to tell him through my eyes that I have learnt my lesson and I will_ change_ if only for him, to make him happy. And to get him to take this goddamned tape off my mouth.

He studies me a moment longer and then with a flick of his hand the tape falls from my lips, freeing them from their bloody prison. I peel it off carefully and lean just over the edge of his bed, opening my mouth wide and letting the blood and spit drenched razor fall from its depths. A long trail of blood continues to flow, but because I won't swallow any of it I don't have the overwhelming nausea that drinking ones own blood tends to cause.

Across the bed from me I can feel the mattress shifting under Draco as he leans to his bedside table to retrieve a small vial filled with a clear lime coloured liquid. I watch him with sore, tired eyes as he smoothly uncorks the vial and swigs it in one go, but doesn't swallow a single drop. With an ease only he could possibly muster he slides up into my lap and forces me to sit up again, leaning against the headboard and wall for support. His lips are pursed around the potion but just the edges of them are curled up into an unmistakable smirk around whatever poison he is holding in store for me.

And then his pewter eyes close and he gently leans in to kiss me with both his fine porcelain hands wrapped around the back of my head and all I can think is that my tongue is cut in numerous places and that my cheeks are marred with tiny little pocks and holes from the blade, and that this will no doubt hurt. Me, that is. But his lips connect with mine and I have no choice but to kiss him back and then that pleasantly flavored potion fills in my mouth with its sweet release from all the stinging and burning pain.

A pain potion. He's kissing me with a mouthful of numbing pain potion, and in the process is getting a mouthful of my freshly spilt blood.

After a delicious moment of bliss, the release from the throbbing, stinging pain, I push him away from me with angry hands, wiping at my jaw and marveling at the scarlet mess dripping from his lips and shining on his grinning sharp little teeth. He doesn't even seem to notice curling out of the corners of his mouth and dribbling down his chin because he makes no move to wipe it away. He just sits straddling me, smirking his softly tainted smile and looking like he owns the whole world just because he owns me.

It proves that I am his whole world. I matter to him more than anything else and even though he's probably a little evil and very tainted and mostly crazy he is still madly, deeply in love with me.

It's giving me the warm and fuzzies.

"You dirty fucking slut." I murmur in the moment, thinking of nothing else to suit the situation but that comment. I wipe my mouth absently on my shoulder, leaving a warm wet streak there that cools rapidly in the frigid dungeon air.

"Your one and only." He responds gently, moving slowly closer and closer back to me, his hands warm on my chest as he leans in. And I'm tired and hungry and most definitely _not_ up to any sort of raucous activity at the moment, but I'm still incredibly turned on. So what if there's no way that the two of us have enough energy for sex right, right now? There's always an hour from now. Tomorrow night. The weekend. In between classes and after meals, or whenever class gets boring and the two of us manage to skive it off.

"Now just give me a goodnight kiss." I whisper once before we kiss again, the feeling cold and tingly because of the potions slow moving numbing of our mouths and throats and lips. The kiss slows and eventually stops, Draco resting his head just under my chin and letting his eyes flutter shut on their own accord, his breathing matching mine and his heartbeat slowing down to almost the same tempo.

We lay in the quiet for I don't know how long, enjoying the silence and solitude, neither of us moving perhaps out of fear of ruining the moment, or maybe because it was so warm and comfortable, or maybe just because we were both far too fatigued to be bothering to get up and move. I like to think that it was because we needed to stay close, skin to skin and ear to heart, just enjoying the moment.

It was cold in the dungeon and my mouth was numb and everything tasted the metallic smell of blood. But Draco was warm and his skin smelled like soap and lavender and his hair tickled my chin and he loved me.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"_This," I whispered just before falling asleep, stroking his neck and back in smooth circles, "is bliss."_

"_I know." He murmurs so quietly that I could feel his breath on my skin more than I could hear his words. "Welcome home."_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **THANKS to:

**JPhinala,** **iamanevilgenius,** **Julia,** **blazville,** **x Tommy x S x,** **pureangel86,** **harrydracoyaoichix22,** **emeraud.silver,** **Asato Sohma,** **thrnbrooke,** **MimiTaylor,** **mordechaimalachai,** **txcalbud,** **Bad fairy,** **bananagirl **& **doralinda **!


	37. The End

**Title:** Don't Speak

**Author: **mintapotter

**A/N: UPDATE DEC 2010: **I wanted to do a follow-up to this piece, and meant it to be original fiction. It's here, and complete! _In Our Blood_ is in the same vein as _Don't Speak _and is available at this is our blood dot tumblr dot com. Thank you!

Title _The End_, from song by My Chemical Romance.

The title's short, sweet and to the point.

For the last time, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 37 - The End.**

"_No Draco."_

_Harry speaks softly into the shell of my ear, his words so soft the air barely parts around them, but he lets me hear them now._

"_We won't be any good, love. We'll be grand."_

To sleep with another person, just sleep and nothing else, is a luxury.

It's the one thing that'll soothe a nightmare away. It will let you warm your feet on it, let you sniff its hair and stroke its skin. Sometimes it will hold you _so_ close that its ribs feel sharp when they cut into your back, but you don't care.

You can feel its heartbeats.

You can listen to it _breathe_. It's harmless. It trusts you in sleep, if nowhere else.

It's safe because _you're_ there and it knows that you love it. Even deeper than it suspects that you hate it, it _knows_ that it's love. Somewhere deeper.

Not that Draco is an it or anything. An object. A pretty thing.

He is most definitely a man; warm and breathing and alive and _wonderful_.

Asleep, that is.

And he has the most amazingly unnatural beauty and stillness in his sleep, and he doesn't wake when you do. He's helpless and doesn't mind. You watching.

Waking should be a pleasant thing; something slow and brought on by a pleasant smell or the feel of sun on your face. The only problem with sleeping in a dungeon is that the kitchens are nowhere near and there aren't any fucking windows. No birds chirping, no dew to be seen on the grass. There's moss though, and fungus. And did I forget to mention the dripping, the constant dripping on the stones? Or how the air chills you, no matter what you are wearing?

And pain? _Oh, _pain. How could I forget.

That'll wake you in a hurry and rip and tear and shred apart anything happy you may have felt while you were sleeping because pain doesn't give a shit how nice you slept. How _comfortable_ you are.

_Were._

Pain was what woke me as my mouth began to tingle again with the tendrils of pain unfurling from the tears in my gums and tongue. It, Draco, rolled over with his eyes only half open and watched as I left the bed searching for the pain potion he had given me the night before; he smiled lazily before pulling the blankets about him higher. Only a minute before I was drinking him in, watching him breathe, tracing his jaw and collarbone with my fingertip.

He didn't know that we had just shared 'a moment' though. He woke up and smiled because _he_ knew what I wanted and he was choosing whether or not I'd get it. Awake, there was nothing _soft_ or _soothing_ about him.

Fucker.

"Sleep well?" he murmured; I grunted in response. My tongue was too busy pushing and pulling the thread of flesh still hanging from the roof of my mouth, slowly ripping it loose. Blood dripped from the raw spot and it was then that the pain started to come back into focus and I _really_ wanted to find the potion.

My fingers probed through all of Draco's immaculately kept drawers and cupboards, into the hidden shelves behind his bookcase and even underneath his bedside table. Nothing. Not a vial, a bottle, a _drop_ of a fucking potion to be found.

"Looking for something?" Draco whispered, turning to face me and smiling again, like he was holding the key to a dirty secret. His eyes always betrayed the fact that he loved mocking me. Why couldn't he just tell me? Why did he always have to wake up and _say something_?

I stared back but said nothing, not wanting to feed his ego because yes, he had the upper hand. It was starting to seem as though Draco always had something that I wanted, and he always played a game before giving it to me.

_The tease._

"I've got more potion Harry, stop fretting and lie back down. I'll fetch it for you."

His words were soft now and didn't hold the threat of lies; he actually meant it for once. He didn't even watch me climb back into the bed, and he didn't laugh when I winced and let my face contort into the grim lines that only a stinging agony could cause.

Loving Draco hurt, god knew, but there was no reason why it should hurt so fucking _much_.

"You could just swig it from the bottle," his voice broke the silence, his delicate hand holding aloft the bottle of acid green liquid that I had been searching for, having hidden it behind his dresser, "-or you can let me give it to you, and in my opinion the second method is _much_ more pleasurable and _much _more effective."

And then he smiled and tossed me the bottle but his smile wasn't coy. Or evil or wrought with mal-intent. He was just teasing. Laughing even? Just to see me, talk with me, be with me? Did Draco ever even _do_ happy? Could he feel it without hurting someone else first?

I can hope that sometimes, things could be like this. Light and airy and-

_Pain_. Deal with pain first, think fucking happy thoughts later.

I tossed the bottle and whispered back "I'd prefer the second method I think. And as quickly as possible, if you don't mind."

And Draco wasted no time in swigging it back, straddling me again and pushing it between his lips and through my teeth. We weren't famed for our subtlety, that's for damn sure. But then again, when your mouth is numb, what exactly would be the point of nibbling on a lip, or a soft touch?

I giggled at the thought and Draco drew back, a line furrowing his brow. _Confusion_ was a look he wore astonishingly well.

"What?" he hissed.

"It's nofing…" I murmured, my words muted. His lips broke into a wide, sloppy grin as the potion worked its magic and our mouths became sufficiently numb to slur our words.

"It's only morning an' I soun' drunk…" I continued with the slurred speech because no matter how he tried, Draco couldn't stop himself smiling. His nose twitched with childish laughter but he wouldn't speak a word; not if it meant that he sounded drunk _of all things_.

"…Let's stay in then." He spoke laboriously but his words didn't turn out the half-muddled way mine did. His expression had changed from gleeful to serious as he concentrated on speaking, but it was more than just that. The words meant more than we were just going to stay in because we sounded silly. It was meant in that this was our time to be alone.

To be alone together.

You know what I'm talking about.

_That feeling._

The one where you're sitting in class and you turn around just at the right moment and stare at someone…who's already staring back? It's that sixth sense, that prickling on the back of your neck or the rising of tiny hairs on your arms.

You know what I'm talking about.

And Harry gives it to me all the time.

When the time is right and I have nowhere to be, I love to simply wallow in the warmth of bed sheets. Laziness is what wealth and time can buy. Leisure. I can take hours to get out of bed if you'll let me.

And Harry confuses this slow waking with sleep. So he watches. He mutters words so soft that even when his lips are at my ears, I can't hear them.

He's saying 'I love you'. I just know it. I can feel it because those sounds make me tingle with something different, something magic. That giddy feeling you can't really name.

Love maybe. Something like that, I suppose.

And he strokes the parts he likes best; my bones. The jut of my hipbone, the curve of my wrist. He kisses my collarbone and traces my jaw with an ultimate sort of reverence.

If anyone knew about how beautiful that can make you feel, they would cry and beg to have someone worship them like this. _Worship_ is hands down the best feeling a person can have. To have someone else completely yours. They'll do anything to keep you. Have you.

They won't share you with anyone. They _own_ you because they want and need and love you that much.

Harry breathes me in and sighs.

His fingertips tap out the rhythm of my heartbeats on the bedspread.

All while he thinks I'm asleep.

And then I wake up. Yawn. Stretch. And he stops. He pulls away and leaves the bed, searching for something. He thinks that I don't know. He won't tell.

Go on. Blame me for being selfish. I don't want him to stop because he knows that I'm lucid enough to remember later. I want to hurt him because he won't love me while I'm awake.

And then I give up and give in; I give him what he wants. Deliverance from pain; temporary. He speaks with a slur because it makes me laugh and he loves my laugh. My smile. All the lips and teeth and saliva of it.

When I suggest that we stay in he loves a lot more of me than just the hole in my face that is my mouth. His fingers start tracing again, his slurred speech leaves him. He whispers words I can't understand but that I pretend to be 'I love you's. I wish he'd just tell me.

Say it aloud. Proper and loud and for everyone to hear; I'm loved. Someone wants me.

But he doesn't. He rolls me over and lies so, so, so close that every bit of me is warmed by him. Every inch of skin that he reveals by pulling at my shirt or yanking at my trousers is breathed upon, kissed, traced with a reverence.

"Come up here." I persist, pulling his lips up to where they were meant to be; on mine. My words are no longer slurred; we didn't drink enough potion and it's wearing off fast. He winces at every probing of my tongue but he won't stop because he loves every fucking minute of it. I purposely rub at the roof of his mouth to start it bleeding and he whimpers; his nails dig into my back ruthlessly.

"Tell me you love me." I command and he pulls away, his eyes blinking away tears mixed with both anger and pain.

"I can't when you're making me bleed Draco." He protests feebly, his hands never leaving my waist. He can feel me breathe. He's helpless while touching me and he knows it. He doesn't mean that he won't say it. He will.

Give me five minutes and he'll say anything I want him to.

"You love me no matter what I do, and you know it. You adore me. Now say it."

Naked, I hold the power. Harry can't stop looking, and I won't stop touching him until he gives me what I want. I _know _what he wants; a fuck and some more potion.

How dreadfully romantic.

A slow shift is made until he's the one lying on the bed and I'm straddling him on top, my nails scratching pink lines over the soft skin stretched thin over his ribs. Rebel tears leak down the sides of his face and blur into the ink of his hair; he's desperate.

So am I, simply for different things.

"Say it."

He shakes his head; more tears.

Like I care.

My nails scratch extra hard when I flip open the buttons to his shirt; he writhes and says not a word.

"Say it."

"_NO._" he forces the hiss out through stained teeth and bloodied mouth.

I am _not_ well pleased. I bite his hipbone after removing his trousers because lessons need to be learnt. Sure he cries out on the _outside_ but on the inside he loves it.

Loves me.

"_Say it_ or I'll fuck your mouth up a lot worse than it already is. I've got a few things that could do the job quite nicely."

"It _hurts_-"

"That's what razors are for Harry and maybe this'll serve you to remember that and never, ever, try and use one on yourself again."

"_Draco-_"

"SAY IT!"

He blinks to see more clearly but the shiny peaks of his eyelashes probably make it near impossible. More tears drip as he mutters "Fuck you."

_I love you_. How hard is it to say?

"Fuck. You."

_Love you_.

Close enough.

"There we are darling." I murmur, lapping at the tears following neat little lines over the hollows of his face. I lick at the spot of blood on his lower lip and he's mine.

Harry loves me enough while I'm sleeping; maybe he'll prefer me even better when I'm dead.

Oh well.

Life's for living. Fucking. Why not? While you're awake you might as well hurt everything you can. There's only so much time in a day to do it.

"You're such a bastard." He whispers, letting me kiss him as my hands work downwards on his _long _neglected cock. I can kiss and kiss and kiss, just without any tongue. Which lessens the fun by at least half. But making him grunt and moan little by little with nothing more than a twist of my hand or the slide of my palm makes up for the loss.

Almost.

"I know."

"You deserve nothing more," he accentuates the threat in his tone by pushing me from him with force unknown, not caring for or taking any notice of the loud smacking sound of my skull on the footboard.

"-than pain, you know that? You're never once kind Draco, all I wanted was some-"

"ALL I WANTED WAS FOR YOU TO SAY ONE GODDAMN THING! JUST ONE!"

We stare into each others eyes only a moment before Harry smiles a little, breaking it off.

"Some people never get what they want, Draco. If you're making me wait for the potion, I'll make you wait too. Let's see who's more impatient, shall we?"

Draco has no patience.

Oh, how he'll pretend to though, to win a point.

My mouth is ripped to shreds; pieces of my gums are working there own way loose every time I speak. Does it even matter how much blood I've swallowed? Does it look like I care?

No. If I've endured pain before, pain worse than this, than I can do it again..

But Draco? It hurts Draco so much more to have me refuse to tell him I love than to have me fuck him.

So he lets me. To prove a point, I suppose.

And that's a very, _very_, bad idea when I am bleeding pissed.

Every time I push he has to bite his lip to keep from crying out something. _Stop_ is probably at the top of his list of words to say, followed closely by _you bastard_ and _fuck, that hurts_.

But as I said before, he's trying to prove a point. Like he can wait this out longer than I can.

_Idiot_.

His sweating skin glides smoothly under my palms and rips beautifully when I scratch it off. I bite at my favorite place on his collarbone; I pinch the skin of his jaw with my teeth and yank at the stands of hair on his head hard enough to pull a couple loose.

We're so wrapped up in hurting each other, withholding what the other wants that neither of us realize that this too can feel good. _Better_ than good even, divine. Draco may be crying but we both know that somewhere, deep down, this is ecstacy.

My tongue is swollen past the point where breathing through my mouth is difficult, but I'm so close.

So,

so,

so,

so,

so

_close._

I come and give in to urgency; I kiss Draco with whatever of a mouth I have left. At this point it's no more than a bloody opening in my body, filled with jagged shards of bones and teeth pushing their own way through the surface.

Draco doesn't mind the blood; in fact I think that he likes it. He's the kind of person who sucks on a paper cut to get every last drop anyway. That my blood is any different than his makes no difference to him. We're just extensions of each other now really; rip one of us off and the other can no longer surivive. Mutual parasitism.

Neither of us has won yet.

"_Please?_" he begs so pathetically that in a stupid, post orgasm delirium, I nearly give up. Give in.

_I love you._

So,

so,

so,

so simple.

But no.

I shake my head and hold his eyes; my own hand traveling sluggishly down his battered body to _show_ him that I love him. Why does he want to hear it? Why can't touch be enough?

I can make him come. I can watch him writhe and sweat and cry out and then I can actually focus in on his eyes and watch him really cry. He's sobbing. He curls up and into me, a single fingertip resting on my lip.

"_Please? What did I do?_" he whispers, choking on some words and forcing others out.

I stay silent and watch.

He pulls away little by little and crawls to find that bottle again, the one thing I wanted. He's at the end of his rope. He uncorks it and brings it back up to my lips, the soothing cold of the glass just a prelude to the beautiful void that is delivered by the potion just inside.

His hands are shaking.

Ha ha. Joke's on you. This is all still a game and _I win._

_You lose_.

"I'm sorry." I mutter. His eyes widen with surprise but his head shakes back and forth on his skinny neck.

"I…don't believe you. You're not sorry."

"I'm not sorry. I love you."

He looks up and sobs all the harder, the whites of his grey eyes red by now. Every bloodied scratch, every purpling bruise, every shake of his frame stands out.

I can see his heartbeats jumping through his skin. I can hear him labor to

_breathe_.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I love you. Love you. I do."

He covers his ears with trembling hands. My words are trembling too.

"Love you, really I do. Truly. Listen to me. Look? See?"

I smile and I know that it's nothing pretty. I owe him a lot more than a sloppy, bloodied smile through numbed lips. I owe him a lot more than apologies.

I owe him this.

"I love you."

My hands reach out and here we are at the very beginning. On sheets stained with blood turning black, shivering and shaking, hungry, bruised and beaten. What a mess.

He gasps when I touch him and leans in.

"I love you."

His eyes close mercifully when I drape our blanket over us, holding him in just a hug. I kiss his hair and breathe in that scent. The salt of tears and sweat. Something sweet. Something soft.

Through his ribs I can touch his heart.

"I know." He murmurs more into my neck than to my face, but that's alright.

"We're going to miss a lot more classes. We need to. I think that we probably already are."

"I know."

"And if we skip enough, and you just let me be here with you, we'll be here all summer. We have to retake everything to graduate."

"I know."

"And I'll love you, I swear. I'll be good if you are."

"Than we won't be any good at all, will we?"

His whispers are almost inaudible, but not quite. Something wet, a tear, slides from his cheek down my back and my whole body shivers with something different. Excitement maybe. Perhaps the joy of having something to look forward to?

Love.

"_No Draco."_

_Harry speaks softly into the shell of my ear, his words so soft the air barely parts around them, but he lets me hear them now._

"_We won't be any good, love. We'll be grand."_

**A/N **: At first this was just another chapter that I couldn't figure out how to write, then just something I had to get over and done with after homework and school and music and _life_. And then the ending of the chapter became _the end_, and I'm so HAPPY to have this story out there for you guys, and at the same time I'm sad to see it go. Perhaps in the future I'll continue, but perhaps not...

So thank you. _**ALL **_of you. That's everyone who's reviewed before this point, and everyone who'll read and review after, because every single one of those little notes you leave me make me smile.

Thanks. For making this story and all my stories a joy to write.

Keep reviewing, reading, writing and dreaming.

love,

mintapotter


End file.
